


Just For Practice

by yehrinhaze



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Courtship, Cute, Episode Rewrite: s05e22 Someone To Watch Over me, Episode: s05e22 Someone To Watch Over Me, F/F, Femslash, Only they don’t know it’s courtship, Romance, Slow Burn, Someone to Watch Over Me - Alternate Story, Space Wives, courting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-14
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:46:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23136382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yehrinhaze/pseuds/yehrinhaze
Summary: Seven of Nine attempts to research the subject of romance and finds it to be her most challenging task yet on the road to recovering her humanity. Captain Janeway takes pity on Seven's plight and decides to assist her. Taken from and based on the episode "Someone to Watch Over Me." Janeway/Seven (Epilogue up!)
Relationships: Kathryn Janeway/Seven of Nine
Comments: 96
Kudos: 285





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

>   
>  [](https://imgur.com/fJRuBwF)   
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> 
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> Disclaimer: Gene Roddenberry, Paramount Pictures and CBS rightfully owns the beautiful world of Star Trek and all associated characters. In no way am I making any profit from this story. 

_“Have you ever considered trying it yourself? Romance, I mean.”_

Seven of Nine scoffed aloud to herself, remembering Captain Janeway’s words as she quickly made her way to Cargo Bay 2. Relief washed over her as soon as the doors swished shut, safe in her sanctuary and away from the rest of the crew.

 _I will not be trying romance ever again_ , she thought to herself bitterly.

_“So why’d you collect thirty thousand gigaquads of information on the subject?”_

She heard the Captain’s profound voice accompany the words that came floating to the surface of her turbulent mind. It seemed so long ago when they briefly spoke in the Ready room as Captain Janeway got ready to leave for her diplomatic away mission. After the near violent confrontation in the mess hall between Seven and B’elanna early that morning, the Captain felt it necessary to inform Seven to reexamine her approach if she was to continue her research. Although Seven insisted she was not interested in pursuing a romantic relationship herself, Captain Janeway had seen right through her, effectively pointing out the lengths of which Seven had gone to just to explore that particular avenue.

That woman. She always seemed to see through Seven’s otherwise impenetrable exterior somehow. This unsettled her at times, and for reasons she couldn’t quite fathom. There were a lot of things about the Captain that Seven found puzzling, such as the way she smiled at Seven when she asked if she had considered trying romance for herself. Or the way the Captain’s deep blue eyes seemed to burn as Seven stood close to her, helping her pin a pip on the Captain’s dress uniform.

Deciding against retiring for the night in her alcove, she walked over to the computer console and called up the astrometric logs Voyager obtained over the last twelve hours. Seven had fallen severely behind in her duties in favor of her own personal ventures, much to her dismay.

Seven was determined to put the whole ordeal behind her as she immersed herself in the pure unadulterated data. But no matter how intently she focused, Seven was still bothered by the disastrous events that had occurred not even thirty minutes ago.

It was her first date. Her first genuine attempt at romance and it ended up being a complete and utter failure. Being a Borg for nearly her entire life gave her an especially bitter view on failure, for the Borg sought perfection. Failure, along with imperfection, was irrelevant and not an option.

Thanks to the Doctor’s mentorship over the past few days and the conversation with the Captain earlier that morning, Seven analyzed the crew manifest for the most compatible candidate to engage in romantic relations with and landed on Lieutenant Chapman from Engineering. It seemed to make sense at the time based on the fact they both shared an interest in quantum mechanics, astronomy and music. One of the chapters in the Doctor’s social lesson about romance stressed how important it was that there be strong compatibility between two potential mates after all.

The setting for the date took place at the ever popular Sandrine’s, one of Lieutenant Paris’s widely used holoprograms. Lieutenant Chapman was aesthetically pleasing enough, but Seven never felt more apprehensive in her life.

It didn’t help that the man was extremely awkward, as if he had preferred to be anywhere else but here at a table with the former Borg. As a result, dinner between the two of them lasted all but five minutes when Seven accidentally spilled a little food on Chapman. Seven immediately stood, face flushing with embarrassment.

“I am sorry Lieutenant, please allow me to replicate you clean garments.”

Chapman wiped the bits of food from his shirt with his cloth napkin, laughing nervously.

“No, no that’s okay,” he said as politely as he could, “there wasn’t a lot on me.”

Seven gingerly sat back down into her chair and watched as Chapman dropped the napkin onto his plate, still full of food barely eaten.

“I don’t think I can eat anymore, I wasn’t all that hungry to begin with.”

“Oh I see,” said Seven. She looked down at her own plate and found that the feeling was mutual. Getting used to eating solid food was still something she struggled with anyway. “I believe I am finished as well.”

Chapman managed a small smile and took a sip of wine. He set the glass back down to the table and his gaze fell on the two holographic couples occupying the dance floor several meters from their table. Inspiration suddenly struck him.

“Um, I don’t suppose you’d care to dance?”

A bit surprised but intrigued by Chapman’s rather outgoing inquiry, Seven glanced at the patrons dancing and looked back at him.

“I am not certain that I can, I have not spent an adequate amount of time studying the subject.”

“That’s okay, I’m not a professional myself but it might be fun to try,” he said, hoping she didn’t detect the apprehension in his voice.

“Very well,” Seven relented, “I will try.”

Seven followed the Lieutenant to the dance floor and he held out a slightly shaky hand. Fortunately knowing enough about the basics, she hesitantly grasped his hand and they assumed the waltz position.

“Just follow my lead,” said Chapman.

Seven nodded, feeling uneasy about being so close to a man she barely knew and nervous about messing up. The Lieutenant started to move in time with the music and Seven was finding herself able to keep up with his movements with little difficulty.

It was almost a pleasant experience. They were dancing successfully, and Seven even started to relax a little. But she had this curious sensation that something was missing. Their bodies were in extremely close proximity, a form of intimacy. She was still new at experiencing feelings typical of humans, but somehow she expected to feel something like arousal or desire at being so close to him. Seven couldn’t be certain, but she really didn’t feel anything of a romantic nature.

Dismissing her inner thoughts as simply inexperience, Seven concentrated on their dance. She saw one of the other couples on the dance floor twirl each other and proceeded to try twirling Chapman, not knowing how to precisely execute it without using too much force.

Chapman suddenly cried out and fell to his knees. He grasped at his shoulder, gritting his teeth and looking up at a horrified Seven of Nine, her mouth agape. The holograms nearby stopped their dancing to stare at the spectacle with concern.

“Are you okay Lieutenant? I seem to have miscalculated...”

“My shoulder,” he hissed, “I think it might be dislocated.”

“The Doctor should examine it at once, I will escort you to Sick Bay.”

Chapman shook his head, wincing in pain as he carefully stood up. He still clutched his shoulder in an effort to keep it from being jostled. It was only for a brief second, but Seven clearly saw the look of indignation play across his face before he donned a more gentle expression to placate her.

“No, that’s okay. I can get there by myself. It’s probably nothing serious.”

“If that is what you prefer,” she said, knowing full well that it was probably for the best that Seven not accompany him.

She already felt an enormous amount of embarrassment that would only be made worse by going with him to Sick Bay and facing the Doctor. She knew that at some point they were going to have to talk about it, since he was her mentor in some respects, but she strongly preferred to delay that conversation for as long as possible until she was ready.

“If it means anything,” Seven hesitated, carefully thinking of the appropriate thing to say, “I had a nice time, and I deeply apologize for injuring you, Lieutenant Chapman.”

“It’s okay Seven, I’m sure the Doctor will be able to fix me up,” Chapman responded a little too cheerfully, “I had a nice time as well. I’ll see you around then?”

Not really waiting for a reply back, he made a beeline for the holodeck doors and was gone, leaving Seven alone in the middle of Sandrine’s dance floor.

Eight point three seconds passed by after the man had fled the holodeck whilst nursing his shoulder. The couples that stopped in the middle of their dance to survey the happening between Seven and Chapman only moments ago had already resumed their waltzes, moving with such computer programmed precision and grace that it made her feel resentful.

“Computer,” the former drone called out in a clipped voice, “end program.”

With a soft whoosh, the holodeck emitters disengaged and the environment of Sandrine’s disappeared along with those insufferably perfect dancing holograms.

Wanting nothing more than to be back in Cargo Bay 2, she made for the nearest turbolift and rode it down to Deck Eight, successfully avoiding the gaze of any crew members that she happened to pass by in the corridors.

Seven looked at the time that was displayed on her computer console, sighing heavily. It was already past twenty-one hundred hours.

The Captain was due to come back aboard Voyager from her extended away mission the next day at nine hundred hours and was expecting to receive Seven’s daily report later that morning.

Looking at her alcove with longing, the tall blonde knew that she would have to forgo regenerating for at least a few hours to catch up on the work she had neglected.

It took some effort, but Seven managed to push the incident with Chapman aside and started to work, carefully analyzing log after log and compiling the information into a comprehensible report for her Captain.

Seven finally finished the tedious work without so much as a break nearly two hours later. Feeling the exhaustion starting to take hold of her body, she wearily reached across her console and grabbed the nearest blank PADD to download the report.

Satisfied that she had caught up on her work, Seven stepped back from the computer console. She subconsciously lifted her right hand and massaged the back of her neck, her muscles feeling stiff from looking down at her console, and she headed for her alcove for some much needed regenerating. Something caught the blonde’s eye as she stopped in front of her alcove before climbing up.

“Oh…”

Seven could vaguely make out her own reflection in the glassy black panel that glowed with streaks of green Borg technology at the back of the alcove. She looked down at her body. Somehow Seven had forgotten she was still wearing a beautiful light blue blouse and a black medium-length skirt, clothing that the Doctor had picked out for her date. Looking back up at her reflection again, she lightly ran her fingers down her golden hair, no longer pinned back but resting elegantly down her shoulders. Seldom did she deviate from her reserved but efficient hairstyle, so it was almost a shock to see her hair down, even to herself.

“Doctor to Seven of Nine.”

Seven tensed up at the voice coming through the comm, an uncomfortable mixture of dread and shame surging within her. All Seven wanted to do was regenerate after a long day of stress and disappointment, not talk to the Doctor, her self-appointed mentor, about her failure at romance. At least not for a while.

“Go ahead Doctor,” she replied with trepidation.

“Sorry to disturb you,” said the Doctor, his voice uncharacteristically gentle, “but I checked with the ship’s computer to see if you were in the middle of a regeneration cycle and there didn’t seem to be one in progress. I assumed you were still up and about.”

“Yes I had some work to catch up on, however I am finished and preparing to regenerate,” she said, hoping he would let her be.

“I see. Well, I thought you’d want to know that Lieutenant Chapman—”, Seven grimaced upon hearing his name, “—is doing alright. Nothing that I couldn’t fix anyway.”

Granted, she did feel a little relieved that the Doctor was able to treat Chapman’s injury, but she still strongly preferred that they not talk about this now. Couldn’t the Doctor give her some space until she was ready to discuss it? Then again, the EMH was never known for having any tact.

“That is fortunate. Thank you for letting me know,” Seven dryly replied.

“You’re welcome,” he said, “would you be able to stop by Sick Bay tomorrow morning? I have some scans I’d like to run on your cortical node for my research.”

“Very well, I will ‘stop by’ in the morning,” said Seven, almost rolling her eyes. She knew he wanted to do more than just run scans on her Borg technology, he was more than likely anxious to talk about her date and the scans were just a front.

“Thank you,” the Doctor paused for a moment, “are you okay, Seven?”

Now becoming irritated, Seven felt the compulsive need to rub her temples as she had seen Captain Janeway do many times when dealing with the Doctor.

“I am fine, Doctor, I will report to Sick Bay as you have requested.”

“Very well,” he relented, much to her relief, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

At last, the comm went silent. Seven let out a sigh and took one last look at her reflection in the alcove before she walked off to the nearby storage container that held her belongings. She took out a neatly folded biosuit and promptly changed, glad to be rid of the dress clothes. After having closed the seam, she walked back to her alcove, stepping onto the platform and facing outward as she had done many times.

As the alcove powered up, Seven’s eyes closed and she sensed her consciousness gradually fading away.

 _“Have you ever considered trying it yourself..._ ”

Once more, she heard Captain Janeway’s voice echo in her mind, right before the former Borg had fully slipped into a blissful state of regenerative unconsciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

The turbolift took no more than three seconds to travel through the shaft and dock at the doors on Deck Two, far too quickly for Tom Paris’s liking. Quietly cursing under his breath, he stepped inside and the doors closed behind him. _Someone must have rode the lift to Deck One or Deck Three for it to arrive so fast_ , he thought to himself. 

“Sick Bay,” he called out.

The computer systems that controlled the turbolift chirped in response, acknowledging the Lieutenant’s voice command. Much like the arrival of the turbolift, the ride to Deck Five was equally prompt. He exited the turbolift and trudged through the corridor to Sick Bay to report for his morning duty shift.

Walking through the entrance of Sick Bay and only just barely hiding a scowl, he glanced around until he caught sight of Voyager’s infamous EMH through the window of his office. As usual, the holographic Doctor was sitting at his desk and staring fixedly at the computer console in front of him.

Tom picked up the PADD he had grown accustomed to using in Sick Bay and skimmed through the list of tasks he had to complete that shift. He shook his head, still feeling none too enthused about having to work in Sick Bay alongside the moody Doctor. He would much rather be on the Bridge where most of the excitement was, doing what he loved as Voyager’s pilot.

“Morning Doc,” Tom casually greeted him.

The Doctor did not look up from his console but his facial expression turned sour.

“You’re four minutes late, Mr. Paris, that’s the second time this week. Could you at least _try_ to be on time for your shifts?” he said crossly. 

Tom couldn’t help but smile a little despite being reprimanded just then. Notorious as he was for his perpetually irate personality, it was also one of the Doctor’s somewhat endearing qualities that made it difficult for Tom to take him seriously.

“I know Doc, I’m sorry. In my defense, the Mess Hall was a little hectic this morning. You see, uh, Neelix had the brilliant idea to experiment with some new ingredients again and he ended up burning most of the food,” he explained with a laugh, “I was lucky I had enough replicator rations for peanut butter and toast.”

Arching an eyebrow, the Doctor finally looked up from his console and gave the Lieutenant his trademark frown.

“I’m sure it was quite a dire situation,” he replied, not even bothering to subdue the sarcasm in his voice, “but next time save yourself the trouble and just skip Mr. Neelix’s breakfast.”

“Yes sir,” Tom half saluted, smirking.

The Doctor’s glare did very little to wipe the smirk off the fair-haired Lieutenant’s face.

“I guess I should get to work then,” said Tom, excusing himself and walking off toward the medical cabinets where the instruments were stored. 

Rolling his eyes, the Doctor looked back down at the text that was displayed on his console. Tom Paris could be frustrating to deal with at times. Nevertheless, he had shown himself to be a great officer over the years despite his past before Voyager. He was also the only member on board with any semblance of medical knowledge. 

In between treating the crewmembers for all sorts of different ailments, the Doctor spent many hours researching various subjects, the majority of them being for medical purposes of course. He was, however, known to on occasion delve into more questionable subjects like ancient Earth music and sociology.

What occupied the Doctor’s research as of late involved a certain former Borg drone. Having Seven of Nine on board Voyager had been monumental to the Doctor’s understanding of Borg technology. 

Seven’s cortical node, the focus of his research, was a truly ingenious and advanced piece of Borg technology that could neither be replicated nor repaired. Very little was known about it to begin with, and with Seven’s help, the Doctor endeavored to gain more information about the single most important implant for a Borg drone.

“Computer, what is the time?” the Doctor inquired.

“The time is 0724 hours,” the computer stated.

The Doctor anxiously tapped a finger on the surface of his desk. Aside from needing her to conduct his studies, he was also very eager to discuss what happened the previous night between Seven and Lieutenant Chapman.

The latter had not been very forthcoming about what happened on their date when he came in with an injured shoulder, but there was every indication that the date went very badly. He felt personally responsible for pushing Seven into the precarious world of dating, something he barely understood himself.

With little choice but to wait for her to arrive, he buried himself in his research for distraction. 

Some time later the doors to Sick Bay opened and the beautiful tall blonde strode in, hands clasped behind her back in traditional fashion. She immediately spotted Lieutenant Paris on the far side of Sick Bay working on a bio bed console. 

“Hey Seven,” Tom acknowledged her cheerfully, “are you feeling sick?”

“No Lieutenant, the Doctor requested my presence this morning to conduct scans on my cortical node,” she replied simply.

“Ah! You made it,” the Doctor exclaimed as he emerged from his office with his arms outstretched, “have a seat on that bio bed and we’ll get started right away.”

“Very well.”

As the Doctor followed closely behind, Seven walked over and sat on the bed, her legs being long enough for her feet to touch the floor with ease.

“This procedure should only take about ten minutes,” he said enthusiastically as he picked up a modified medical tricorder from the table next to the bed, “I will need to recalibrate this a few times as I scan you to ensure I get all the data I need.”

“I understand,” her reply accompanied with a slight nod.

In contrast to the annoyed expressions he usually wore, he smiled brightly as he held the instrument several millimeters away from the right side of her skull where the cortical node lived. Unlike his relationship with the rest of the crew, the Doctor felt a special connection to the former drone in that they were both somewhat outsiders. The Doctor, a being made up entirely of photons and energy who not too long ago had been given the same considerations and respect the organic crew members had, and Seven, a former long-time member of the Borg Collective who had her humanity brutally stripped away from her at a young age and then slowly restored by Captain Janeway and the crew. In essence they were both set quite far apart from their fellow crew mates, creating a sort of bond between them. Quiet beeping sounds emitted from the device as he slowly moved it upwards, and then back down.

“So far so good,” said the Doctor, still beaming at Seven. She kept quiet, uncertain as to how to respond.

A minute had gone by in silence, save for the sounds the Doctor’s tricorder was making. Seven wondered to herself how long it would take for the Doctor to bring up the date, or if he was perhaps waiting on her to bring it up. Seven came out of her regeneration cycle this morning feeling a little less ashamed of her dating attempt, but she still had some reservations about discussing it. The device trilled sharply, and the Doctor pulled it away to reconfigure.

“So…” the Doctor drawled, unable to hold in the nagging curiosity any longer, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me what happened last night?”

A blonde eyebrow raised up. Well that didn’t take long.

“I had intended to, Doctor. I did not want to interrupt your scan,” she answered back, realizing that it sounded like an excuse.

“Should I dismiss Lieutenant Paris?” he asked in a lowered voice and glancing in Tom’s direction, still working on the other side of Sick Bay.

Seven contemplated for a moment. One of her many observations from working with the crew over the years was that secrets were not very well kept on Voyager; news of her date had undoubtedly become common knowledge by now. Was there really any point in preventing Voyager’s favorite helmsman from hearing how her date went? As the expression goes, she threw caution to the wind.

“No, I don’t think that is necessary,” said Seven, taking a subtle but deep breath. 

While he continued running his scan of her cortical node, Seven recounted the entire event in great detail as if she were reciting a simple report, her voice a steady monotone. No longer smiling, the Doctor’s eyebrows shot up several times throughout the story. But he did not say anything and kept scanning, stopping once to recalibrate the tricorder.

“He then promptly left the Holodeck to go to Sick Bay and I returned to Cargo Bay 2,” Seven finished, bringing it to an end.

“Well then,” the Doctor said dryly, feeling an immense amount of guilt after hearing what Seven had gone through, what he had pushed her into, “that’s quite a first date.” A poor joke that was, and he instantly regretted making it.

“Indeed,” Seven said, her pale blue eyes narrowing slightly, “and it will be my last.”

The EMH’s eyes widened in shock upon hearing this. 

“Are you sure, Seven? I should have mentioned that dating isn’t an exact science and it doesn’t always work out between two people, and for that I apologize,” he said earnestly, “but if you’d allow me, we can go over more lessons and perhaps fine tune your dating skills-”

“Doctor,” she interrupted, “your assistance in getting me accustomed to the nuances of social interaction have been invaluable to me so far, but I would prefer not to continue with that social activity,” she said with some degree of finality.

He opened his mouth to say something, but the sudden lack of determination to press the matter compelled him to hold back. The success of his so-called social lessons with Seven gave him a false sense of confidence in his abilities. Then, in his arrogance, he had ultimately set her up for a world of failure and embarrassment. The thought of that stung him deeply down to his subroutines.

“I understand,” he said rather wistfully, “Though I shall have to think of some way to make up for your bad date.”

“Perhaps.” There was the faintest of smiles on Seven’s fair-skinned face. 

“Um, hey Seven?” Tom Paris suddenly piped up behind her, walking around the biobed to face the former Borg.

“Yes Lieutenant?” she replied, regarding him curiously. Still holding the tricorder level with Seven’s head, the Doctor had also glanced at Tom and wondered what the young helmsman was up to.

“Okay so full transparency, I was eavesdropping back there,” said Tom, grinning sheepishly, “but I also think you shouldn’t give up just because of one bad date.”

At that, both Seven and the Doctor looked at each other, blinking. It wasn’t necessarily a shock to them that he had been listening, but they were a little taken aback by his boldness.

“Why?” she asked.

“Let’s just say I’ve had my fair share of bad dates,” he replied, looking slightly embarrassed, “I took a girl out to dinner one night. Me being the charmer that I was, I made a few comments on her dress and ended up really offending her. She then proceeded to dump her bowl of scalding hot soup all over me and stormed out of the restaurant.”

That drew a small chuckle from the Doctor, but Seven was more intrigued than amused and maybe even a little relieved at hearing Tom Paris’s bad date anecdote. It was nice to know she wasn’t alone. The Doctor’s tricorder beeped again and he pulled it away for the last time, closing and slipping the device into the pocket of his uniform as he stood aside, his interest in the conversation palpable.

“You are saying that it is normal, perhaps even necessary for one to be subjected to such an undesirable experience to find a suitable mate? Multiple times?” Seven asked incredulously.

“No, well I mean sort of,” Tom stumbled over his words, “all I’m trying to convey here is that bad dates can happen, but they’re absolutely worth the risk if and when you meet that special someone.”

“If and when…” Seven repeated slowly, furrowing her brow, “there are still no guarantees that I will meet this ‘someone’, Lieutenant, even if I agreed to go through more unpleasant dates.”

“Sadly you’re right,” he shrugged, smiling solemnly, “I won’t lie, you may never truly hit it off with someone. But those are the risks you take, that all of us have to take to find our potential partner or soulmate.” 

For almost point five seconds, Seven gave his words a fair amount of consideration, however, she was not entirely convinced she was ready to cross that rickety bridge again.

“Thank you for your input,” she replied with practiced politeness, “perhaps I will re-examine my conclusions.”

A wholesome and radiant grin appeared on that boyishly handsome face of his and the Doctor had to refrain from rolling his eyes out of habit.

“Happy to help really,” said Paris, “I hope you do find that special someone.”

“Janeway to Seven of Nine,” a low and familiar voice came through suddenly from Seven’s combadge.

Both men glanced at each other and then looked at Seven questioningly. Seven took a breath, pursing her lips slightly and tapped her combadge to respond. 

“Yes Captain?”

“If you’re not busy, I’m still expecting your report,” said Janeway. 

Alarmed, Seven could practically hear the Captain raising an eyebrow in the way she spoke. Was it past nine hundred hours already? Clearly she was making a habit out of losing track of time.

“I apologize Captain,” Seven responded, nearly hopping off of the bed, “I will be there shortly.”

“Understood, see you soon. Janeway out.”

Nodding almost involuntarily when the Captain ended the transmission, Seven then gazed expectantly at the Doctor, waiting for his official discharge.

“I think I got what I needed, thanks for your assistance as always,” the EMH said warmly, gesturing towards the doors.

“You are welcome,” she replied automatically. After turning to face Tom and acknowledging him with a crisp, “Lieutenant,” Seven left Sick Bay, her legs moving at a quicker pace than usual.

Stretching his arms above his head, Tom softly groaned contentedly.

“Back to work I guess,” he said, glancing at the Doctor and smirking before walking off. 

Having his holographic feathers ruffled once again by the fair-haired pilot, this time the Doctor did not refrain from rolling his eyes and sighing exasperatedly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew this one took me a while to finish. Nevertheless, thank you all for the positive comments and kudos. Hope you enjoy! :3

An unusual sight to see, the Federation starship Voyager was positively brimming with activity after Captain Janeway and Lieutenant Commander Tuvok came back from their extended visit to the alien planet that morning. Judging from the upbeat expressions on passing crew members’ faces and the snippets of conversation Seven overheard as she made her way through the ship, the Captain was more than successful in her diplomatic mission.

Alone in the Delta Quadrant without the safety of the Federation to fall back on, the crew of Voyager encountered a multitude of alien races during their long and dangerous journey back to the Alpha Quadrant. Because they seemed to cross paths with more hostile races than peaceful ones, the crew considered themselves extremely fortunate anytime they established amicable relations with a new race. As rare as it was for them to form favorable alliances with an alien race, it was even more rare when those alliances produced mutually beneficial exchanges of resources and information. No matter how small these sorts of exchanges were, the Captain and her crew were always extremely appreciative. Even a little bit of help went a long way towards getting their ship back home safely and intact.

When they returned to Voyager, Janeway and Tuvok brought with them a wealth of technological knowledge courtesy of the aliens known as the J’haelani, a peaceful but somewhat reserved humanoid race. They were evenly matched in technological status with the exception of the J’haelanis’ propulsion systems. Configured in a far more efficient design than Voyager’s Federation-standard engines, their warp and impulse engines allowed for not only faster speeds, but a negligible drain on resources as well.

In the hopes that this promising technology could be compatible with her own ship’s propulsion systems, with a subtle but triumphant countenance, Janeway stepped down from the transporter pad and immediately handed her First Officer the J’haelani equivalent of a PADD containing all the technical information they would need that the aliens were willing to part with.

Before Chakotay could inquire as to what the data module was, Janeway quickly explained the contents and tasked the First Officer with overseeing the project. Enthusiastic crew members swarmed throughout the ship like worker bees, a mixture of both Starfleet and ex-Maquis, all laboriously engaged in making modifications to the ship’s engine and control systems under the strict guidance of B’elanna Torres and Ensign Harry Kim.

Stepping out of the turbolift, Seven of Nine mildly noted the extra crew members working on the Bridge and weaved her way through towards the Captain’s Ready Room. Passing the Tactical station with her PADD in hand, she caught the eye of Tuvok as he conversed with one of his security officers. She nodded politely at the Vulcan, which he returned in the same manner.

That was Seven’s favorite form of social interaction by far. Very little effort was required and there was no need for empty platitudes or annoying small talk.

When she reached the doors to the Ready Room, Seven noticed right away with bewilderment that her fingers were anxiously gripping the PADD and her heart jumped in her chest. Thinking back, this was not the first time the tall blonde felt this sudden rush of unpleasant sensations whenever Captain Janeway was involved. She vividly recalled the time she and Janeway were trapped behind a forcefield in the brig of Arturis’s ship, an alien that had deceived them out of revenge for the assimilation of his homeworld by the Borg. In order to escape in the nick of time, Janeway reconfigured Seven’s cranial implant using a microfilament from her combadge. As she did so, standing very close and talking in a low voice while holding onto Seven’s shoulder, Seven felt those same odd sensations. Although they weren’t as strong as the sensations were now, they were noticeable enough.

Over time, Captain Janeway had become much more than the seemingly self-righteous human that forcibly cut her off from the Collective nearly two years ago. She had become her mentor, someone that she looked to for guidance when she needed it, even if she didn’t always agree with the older woman. However, after risking life, limb and even her crew to reclaim Seven from the Borg Queen, it became exceedingly evident that Janeway was more than just her Captain and mentor. She was someone who really seemed to care deeply for her, more deeply than any other individual in Seven’s life, before and after her years as a Borg drone. Shortly after her safe return to Voyager from the Borg Queen’s clutches, she felt these sensations gradually increase in both occurrence and intensity.

Seven never felt a pressing need to bring up these sensations to the Doctor or do any research on her own. Alternatively, she came to the conclusion that she was simply intimidated by Captain Janeway. She could care less about the crew’s opinions of her, but she did care about what the Captain thought of her. After everything she did for her sake, the fierce Captain earned an enormous amount of respect from Seven. It was only natural that she was intimidated by her and sought out her approval. The only individual to reach such a status with the supercilious former drone, Seven considered Janeway her equal, if not more.

Doing her best to brush off the cumbersome physiological response, as she had learned to do in the past when they first started to manifest, she pressed the button outside the door and waited for the Captain to respond.

“Come in,” Seven heard her call out from inside the room.

In that instant the doors parted for her. Seven crossed the threshold into the room and stood before the Captain’s desk. Kind, beautiful and formidable when she needed to be, Kathryn Janeway sat behind the large circular desk working on her console, forehead wrinkled in concentration. Her fingers seemed to fly across the buttons. Seven watched those fingers moving in a flurry, captivated by the sight of them as she waited patiently for Captain Janeway to come to a stopping point.

A few seconds later those hands came to a standstill as Janeway looked up at the golden haired woman towering over her, the expression on her face as imperious as ever. Smirking and arching an eyebrow, she rested her forearms on the surface of the desk.

“It’s well past nine hundred hours. Running behind schedule today?” she asked in an amused tone.

In response, Seven tilted her head upward, causing the light of the Ready Room to catch her dimpled chin as it protruded ever so slightly.

“So it would seem,” Seven remarked with some irritation, “here is my report.” She held out the PADD for the Captain and felt one of those long slender fingers lightly brush her own when she took the data module from her. As brief and as faint as that touch had been, Seven’s Borg enhanced senses could still pick up on how soft the Captain’s skin felt.

“Thank you,” Janeway said, vaguely aware of the touch.

“Will that be all, Captain?” Seven asked, a little too eager to be dismissed.

Raising a mug of freshly replicated coffee to her lips and taking a sip, Janeway hummed with satisfaction and gazed at her Astrometrics Officer for a moment as she set the mug back down.

“Stay while I read this, will you?” she replied, the corners of her mouth curved upward, “I have a new assignment for you I’d like to discuss. It won’t take long.”

Somewhat astonished by the request and at a loss for words, Seven defaulted to an old and familiar response. “I will comply,” she said reluctantly.

There was a hint of laughter in Janeway’s eyes. It had been quite a while since she heard Seven say those particular words.

Reclining in her chair and propping her head up, Janeway held the PADD in front of her and started to read. Unaccustomed to being kept waiting like this and unsure of what to do with herself, Seven stood as still as a statue and tried not to watch the Captain as she reviewed her report. Instead, she focused on the scenery outside the Ready Room’s windows.

Voyager was still in orbit around the J’haelanis’ home planet and the breathtaking view of their green-blue planet was hard to ignore, taking up a substantially large portion of the windows. Sufficiently distracted for a few moments, Seven was startled when Janeway suddenly called out her name. Head snapping back to the source of that low and familiar voice, she realized with some relief that Janeway’s eyes still appeared to be transfixed to the screen of the PADD.

“Yes Captain?”

“You know I don’t like making my officers stand,” said Janeway, gesturing towards the two chairs that faced the desk, “please sit.”

Wanting very badly to decline and cooly remind the Captain that she preferred to stand as always, Seven sighed inwardly. If it were any other day, Seven wouldn’t have hesitated to do exactly that. At this moment, however, she simply didn't have it in her to risk an argument with Janeway. Grimacing with disdain, the blonde obliged, easing into the chair and sitting in a poised position, hands folded in her lap.

Expecting to hear a protest, Janeway heard Seven’s subsequent movements instead, the quiet swishing sounds of fabric shifting and brushing against each other. Without so much as a glance, she smiled to herself, pleased that the younger woman was actually sitting down.

After having been caught off guard earlier, Seven kept her focus on Janeway this time, following the auburn haired woman’s every movement: her greyish sapphire eyes shifting from side to side as they took in each sentence, the occasional pursing of those dark red lips and her long elegant fingers that tapped on the screen to scroll through the report.

Hopelessly lost in the moment, Seven felt as though she could spend an eternity watching this woman work if given the opportunity.

Reaching the end of the long report, Janeway finally looked up in time to see a striking pair of light blue eyes keenly staring at her.

“Something the matter?” Janeway asked, frowning.

Stiffening, Seven shook her head. “No Captain,” her face deceptively nonchalant.

Janeway nodded, no longer frowning but eyeing the blonde curiously. She reached across the desk to return the PADD to Seven, which Seven carefully grabbed to avoid touching the older woman’s hand by accident again, and casually leaned back in her chair.

“Excellent work as usual,” Janeway complimented her, “I take it you’ve heard what happened with the J’haelani delegation?”

“I have not,” Seven replied, her ocular implant raised noticeably in tandem with her eyebrow, “however from my observations of the crew this morning I assume the talks were favorable.”

“You assume correctly,” Janeway inclined her head, eyes shining with pride, “they have graciously agreed to share their propulsion technology with us in exchange for some minor accommodations. It’s not exactly quantum slipstream or transwarp technology, but if it will make our journey just a little bit shorter, I think it will be well worth our time.”

“I concur,” said Seven, her inflection a bit haughty, “what do you require of me?”

Janeway held back a snort. It was a rare occurrence for the candid ex-Borg to harmonize with her on anything as they seemed to clash on almost everything. From ship operations to ethics and unsurprisingly even the chain of command, Janeway could always count on her beautiful but cavalier Astrometrics Officer to disagree with her or blatantly sidestep orders. Yet no matter how angry Seven of Nine made her, Janeway undeniably had a soft spot for the ex-Borg, whereas most other people would have been unwilling to keep her on board.

Donning her captain's visage, Janeway leaned forward, her hands clasped and resting on the desk in front of her.

“Simply put, I would like for you to assist B’elanna and Harry. Their initial impressions of the technical schematics were encouraging, however the likelihood that we will be able to completely adapt our engines to the J’haelani’s configurations is slim at best.”

Janeway looked very seriously at Seven. “Given your knowledge of propulsion systems, I don’t think I have to tell you that you’d be a great help to them as they make the attempt.”

Seven dipped her head in acknowledgment. “I will assist them immediately.”

“Thank you Seven. Oh and be sure to report to Commander Chakotay first.”

Seven’s brow raised slightly.

“Understood.”

Satisfied, Janeway stood from her chair and languidly stretched, arching her back and moaning softly as she rolled her shoulders. She picked up her mug and walked around the desk. Passing Seven, she briefly rested a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. The touch certainly wasn’t unwelcome. Seven had grown accustomed to being touched in this manner by the Captain and even appreciated what the gesture meant. Her skin however would always tingle whenever that warm and slender hand made contact with Seven’s body, no matter how fleeting.

Climbing the steps to the raised section of her Ready Room, Janeway breathed in deeply while she peered down at the planet. With a hand situated on her hip, she took a few sips of coffee and involuntarily closed her eyes with pleasure. Still seated, Seven followed her Captain’s every movement, expecting to be dismissed by now. There was a certain amount of informality about this meeting that puzzled her, as if the redhead wasn’t in any particular rush to send Seven on her way.

“Has anything interesting happened while I was away?” Janeway suddenly asked, her head half turned back towards Seven.

“Interesting? To what are you referring?”

“I mean with the ship and the crew,” Janeway tried to clarify, “has anything happened that was out of the norm?”

Seven glanced at the floor, knitting her brows in confusion. Wouldn’t the Commander have reported such things to her upon her return?

“To my knowledge there has been no significant change among the crew,” she stated simply, “and the ship has been functioning normally while you were away.”

“I see,” Janeway mused, “I suppose I should be grateful that nothing bad happened,” she said with a chuckle.

A few moments of silence passed between them. Seven thought about getting up and excusing herself, but something kept her from following through.

“What about you, Seven?’ Janeway inquired again, “has anything interesting happened with you since we last spoke?”

Suddenly Seven’s blood ran cold and she felt her heart sink into her stomach. She knew exactly where this was going.

Without missing a beat, Janeway added, “Are you still researching romance?”

She didn’t even have to see the older woman’s face to know that she was smirking.

“Yes, I...” Seven paused, her mouth dry, “I attempted to go on a date with a member of the crew last night.”


	4. Chapter 4

Seven of Nine’s response hit Janeway like a Galaxy-class starship going Warp 9.8. Utterly shocked, Janeway quickly turned around to look at her Astrometrics Officer. Her brow raised and her eyes like blue saucers, she took a few steps forward and came to a halt just short of the stairs, placing a free hand on the railing.

“Attempted?” the older woman repeated curiously, her voice husky.

“Correct,” was all Seven managed, feeling herself beginning to squirm under Janeway’s piercing gaze.

“As I recall, you said you didn’t require a romantic relationship,” Janeway teased, a shade of something else present in her tone, “what made you change your mind?”

Seven’s facial expression seemed borderline accusational. “Our conversation prior to your departure yesterday morning,” she said flatly, “you made it clear that I should try it for myself, considering how much effort I was putting into my research.”

Her mouth slightly agape with realization, Janeway nodded and a faint but crooked smile crept across her face. “Theory is all good and well, but it can be a great deal different than the actual practice,” Janeway said dryly, shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she spoke, “romance is something you have to experience for yourself, because it's different for every individual. If romance were universal for everyone, there would be no challenge to it and it would cheapen the experience.”

Even though Seven understood what Captain Janeway was saying on a fundamental level, she still very much resented being coaxed by both the Doctor and the Captain into pursuing the practical application of romance rather than remain an observer, studying the theory of it from a comfortable distance where she could maintain her objectivity.

Lacking a suitable response and honestly loath to think of one, Seven merely inclined her head in acknowledgement.

The Captain’s smile grew, reaching her eyes now mottled with hints of grey. “Care to elaborate on this ‘attempt’? How did it go?”

If Seven was reluctant to talk to the Doctor about the previous evening, it was nowhere near how she felt now. There on the upper section of the Ready Room stood the petite frame of a woman that Seven greatly respected, even admired in ways she didn’t fully comprehend, asking her to reveal something she considered as an imperfection. An ugly stain on her efforts to understand the idiosyncrasies of humanity, her own humanity.

Her imperfection made her feel weak. Vulnerable. It reminded her of when she was first severed from the Collective. Weak and vulnerable, exposed to a certain red headed starship captain while imprisoned in Voyager’s brig. Although Janeway tried to console the newly independent drone, albeit awkwardly, Seven hated that feeling and aspired never to appear weak and vulnerable again. Especially to Janeway, even more so now that she looked up to the remarkable older woman.

What could Seven really do at this point? Much like Tom Paris earlier in Sick Bay, the captain of Voyager would eventually come to hear about the date, regardless of whether Seven kept it to herself or not. Of this, Seven had very little doubt. A lump settled in her throat. She instinctively swallowed, hoping that Janeway didn’t take notice of it and was met with dry resistance. She swallowed again, a bit more forcefully this time before speaking.

“I had arranged a date with Lieutenant Chapman in the holodeck,” Seven said, helpless to stop the heat from rising in her cheeks, “and the date was...unsuccessful.”

Driven by sympathy and a slightly guilty desire to pry further, Janeway briskly climbed down the steps, placing her mug on the desk before settling into the empty chair next to the blonde.

“Oh Seven, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said ruefully, eyes glistening with concern, “can I ask what happened?”

Unlike her discussion with the Doctor, Seven had not been afforded any time to adequately prepare for this, nor did she expect Captain Janeway to show anything more than a mild interest in her social endeavors as she usually did.

Her mind still consumed by a tempest of emotions, Seven recounted the events of her date for the second time that morning. Completely absorbed, Janeway leaned forward in her chair with her hand tucked under her chin and listened attentively. Despite her ability to recall every detail of the date from eidetic memory without the need to pause, Seven struggled, finding it somewhat challenging to maintain her train of thought while she held Janeway’s gaze. Those eyes that were so intensely fixated on Seven had a wondrous tendency to change color. To Seven’s amazement, they were now a darker shade of blue, like she was peering into two resplendent pools of deep ocean water.

Suddenly, Janeway covered her mouth, trying very hard to stifle her laughter when she heard that Seven nearly tore the Lieutenant’s shoulder out of socket mid dance. Out of all the things to get injured from, especially after the many dangers they had to face over the years in the Delta Quadrant, this was perhaps one of the most comical causes of injury Janeway had ever heard of.

Though admittedly still lacking in her ability to recognize certain human behaviors, Seven could plainly see that the Captain was nearly in fits. A muscle in Seven’s neck visibly tensed under her moon-kissed skin as she tilted her head down, eyeing the older woman.

“You find this amusing?” she asked cooly.

The feeble barrier Janeway erected to contain her laughter fell so easily. She threw her head back and released a long, throaty laugh that resonated throughout Seven’s body, causing the hair on her arms and the back of her neck to stand up. In an attempt to be diplomatic, Janeway placatingly raised up a hand as she tried to regain her composure, failing miserably when she pictured the strong and tall ex-Borg trying to twirl the poor Lieutenant.

Bristling, Seven’s jaw clenched, causing her starburst-like implant to ripple slightly. She scowled at the redhead sitting in front of her laughing, quite literally adding insult to injury. Seven fiercely regretted missing her window of opportunity to escape when she had the chance. At least the Doctor and Lieutenant Paris, especially Paris of all people, had the decency not to laugh about it.

Acutely aware that Seven was irritated with her, without even thinking, Janeway reached out and grasped Seven’s hand, causing the former drone to stiffen at the sudden soft warmth that covered the back of her hand. Seven resisted the urge to glance down when a familiar tingling sensation proliferated her human hand.

“I’m so sorry,” the Captain managed to say, her mirth subsiding to quiet giggles, “I shouldn’t be laughing but it is pretty funny in an embarrassing sort of way.”

Unfortunately, Janeway’s apology did little to lessen the severity of Seven’s scowl. Even Janeway’s touch, as warm and as soothing as it was could not melt that icy stare.

“I really am sorry,” Janeway tried again, squeezing Seven’s hand and imbuing as much sincerity as she could, “the truth is, we’ve all experienced embarrassment during a date. Some more than others, and some incidents worse than what you’ve experienced.”

Having a little more success this time, Seven’s edges began to soften.

“Lieutenant Paris had also said something to that effect.”

An odd feeling in the pit of her stomach, Janeway removed her hand and slowly crossed her arms over her chest, leaning against the back of the chair.

“You’ve talked to Paris about this as well?” she asked, her brows knitted.

“Yes, this morning in Sick Bay before you contacted me over the com. I was talking to the Doctor and Lieutenant Paris overheard our conversation,” Seven replied, “he interjected and attempted to console me with his own ‘bad date’ anecdote.”

“I see,” Janeway drawled, the strange sensation in her stomach subsiding only a little. The Doctor was Seven’s self-appointed mentor after all, naturally she would tell him about her date, and Tom just happened to be there for a duty shift. “So then what are your next steps?”

“I have decided to terminate my research,” Seven said a little too forcefully.

The Captain failed to bite back the hearty chuckle that escaped her. The younger woman simply sat there, completely straight-faced and unable to find the humor in her statement.

“Oh Seven, you shouldn’t give up just because you had a bad date,” Janeway exclaimed, smirking.

“I shouldn’t?” Seven repeated, quirking an eyebrow, “romance ultimately seems irrelevant.”

Janeway uncrossed her arms, breathing in deeply and looking very seriously at Seven.

“Romance is a part of being human. For most it’s an essential part,” she explained, elegantly gesturing with her hands, “we humans require companionship as much as we require food and water. We are driven by the need for companionship, to connect with someone, not just physically but emotionally.”

Well known among her crew for communicating through physical contact, Janeway leaned forward and lightly touched Seven’s knee, “You might think it irrelevant now, but as your humanity continues to resurface, I think you will find that even you are not immune to that need.”

Mystified, Seven watched as Janeway pulled back after she had finished her rhetoric. On how many separate occasions did Janeway make physical contact now? Three times? No, it had to have been four times if Seven counted the time Janeway accidentally brushed her fingers when she took the PADD from her earlier.

“Perhaps,” Seven capitulated, “but the truth of the matter is, I do not wish to go through another date. To say that the date last night was an unpleasant experience is an understatement.”

Furrowing her brow, Janeway hummed to herself and reminisced for a moment, scanning her own experiences of dating and romance for any further advice she could impart to Seven. Bittersweet feelings suffused Janeway’s heart as memories of her first few dates came to the forefront of her mind. They weren’t exactly successful, and she wasn’t too keen on admitting that to Seven. Not yet anyway. She did however remember a time when an old girlfriend of hers offered to teach her some valuable pointers when they went out to dinner one night. Those pointers ended up being a substantial help to a young Kathryn and her future dates. At that moment, an idea dawned on her and her face broke out into an excited grin.

“Have you considered going on a practice date?” Janeway suggested brightly.

“No, please explain,” the blonde replied, intrigued.

“Simply put, you go on a date but with a close friend,” said Janeway, her eyes twinkling, “that way you can practice with them as if you were on a real date. Does that make sense?”

Seven nodded, genuinely drawn in by the idea.

“Your suggestion does have merit, however I am uncertain as to what friend I should ask to assist me,” said Seven, raising her ocular implant.

“The Doctor? Or Lieutenant Paris maybe?” Janeway offered optimistically.

Suppressing a grimace at the thought of going on a practice date with the Doctor, the ex-Borg quickly shook her head. She could barely handle him in small doses as it was. She was also not particularly fond of asking the mate of the temperamental chief engineer either. After Seven had severely angered B’elanna the previous morning with her studies, nearly resulting in an all out battle royale between the two women, that prospect was looking pretty bleak.

“No, I would rather not ask either individual,” she said in that cool tone, “I would not be comfortable with them.”

“I see,” the redhead murmured delicately.

Seven never really talked about it, but Janeway was painfully aware that the former Borg didn’t have very many people on board Voyager that she considered to be friends. Although they were polite and courteous, most of the crew gave the former drone a wide berth. As despicable as their behavior was, it was also somewhat understandable. Seven of Nine wasn’t exactly the easiest person to get along with. They didn’t call her the ‘ice queen’ for nothing. The title was well earned.

Realizing that Seven only had one other person she could potentially ask, who just so happened to be sitting across from Seven at this very moment, Captain Janeway hesitantly bit her bottom lip. Trapped between her desire to help a valued member of her crew and the need to keep a professional distance, she wrung her hands, the act of it embodying her grapple with her inner thoughts. _Come now Katie_ , a little voice within her reasoned, _after giving her that speech about romance you should at least offer to help. It's just a practice date, nothing more._

Taking the Captain’s silence as a signal that their conversation had possibly, hopefully, come to an end, Seven awkwardly stood from her chair.

“I appreciate your advice and insight. However, I believe I will simply continue my research from a strictly theoretical standpoint. May I be dismissed?”

Deeply conflicted only a moment ago, Kathryn Janeway easily made her decision as she gazed up at her golden haired officer. Following suit, she rose from her chair, her greyish blue eyes never leaving Seven’s.

“Seven,” Janeway said softly, suddenly feeling self conscious, “if you’re comfortable with it, I'd be happy to go on a practice date with you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, thanks again to everyone for reading, kudo-ing and commenting! I apologize for taking so long to post chapters. You'd think what with the pandemic and all I'd have more time to write but alas, that is not so. Much love to everyone and a special shout out to my really good friend for encouraging me and giving me advice. :3


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains graphic depictions of J7 cuteness.
> 
> Thank you for the continued support and reviews! Much love to everyone.

Striving for perfect punctuality this time, Seven of Nine arrived at Holodeck Two approximately five minutes earlier than the agreed upon time. Tall, curvaceous and an absolute knockout of a woman despite the eighteen years she spent as a Borg drone, she walked up to the computer panel just outside of the Holodeck doors and queued up the program for a modified version of Sandrine's, something that the Captain had requested that they use instead of the original program.

More than appropriately dressed for the occasion, Seven scrutinized her reflection in the panel, tentatively running a hand through her whitish blonde hair that spilled down her shoulders in voluminous waves. It was inefficient, having her hair down around her face where it was in the way. In clear contrast with her Borg instincts however, she partially enjoyed letting it down on these rare occasions. Flowing free from their bonds, it brought forth and added to the wonderfully alluring feminine aura she emanated, an aura that had slowly but surely began to develop subsequent to her separation from the Borg Collective.

A faint crease appeared between her brow as her eyes fell to her body, second guessing her decision to dress up so nicely for a mock date.

As Seven was getting ready in Cargo Bay 2, she gave careful consideration to her outfit, something she did not do for her first date. Had the Doctor not intervened in time, she would have simply shown up to that date with Chapman wearing her biosuit without any qualms. Determined to wear different clothes of her choosing for this practice date, Seven riffled through Voyager’s database and chose a flattering but relaxed black dress that wrapped around her body, sweeping down to her legs at mid length and tied off at her waistline by a sash that blended in with the rest of the dress.

Compared to her skin tight biosuits, the dress left a little more to the imagination with its breathable, yet silk-like material that fluttered and slid against the blonde’s skin. There was also something undeniably sultry that radiated from the dress, though it still possessed a modicum of modesty about it as if the two were somehow working in perfect harmony.

Seven was sufficiently pleased with her decision at the time, but standing there now near the doors to the holodeck, enrobed in something so contrary to her usual appearance, it raised some doubts within the ex-Borg. What if the Captain didn’t bother with dressing up? That little detail never really came up when they initially discussed it and Seven did not think to ask, her mind much too preoccupied with what had transpired.

It completely threw her for a loop when Janeway suddenly offered to be her practice date. After recovering from her initial shock, Seven mulled it over and accepted the offer, deciding that going on a practice date with Janeway would be much more acceptable than with anyone else on the ship. Though she agreed to it, Seven was nevertheless reeling from the fact that Janeway was willing to do such a thing for her sake.

Still somewhat agonizing over her appearance, Seven nearly missed the gentle sound of footsteps on the low carpet of the corridor, heralding the Captain’s approach behind her. She turned toward the sound, keeping her hands behind her back as she squarely faced Janeway, stopping the older woman in her tracks.

“Oh, wow…” Janeway breathed, positively taken aback by the sight of Seven standing before her.

To see her ex-Borg subordinate with her hair down was one thing, but to witness the stunning woman in anything other than a biosuit, let alone such a gorgeous dress was truly indescribable. There was only one other time Janeway had seen Seven in a dress, but it had been under different, more urgent circumstances when a group of Hirogen had taken over Voyager and forced its crew to endure brutal Holodeck simulations without any memory of who they really were. But in this moment something stirred within her, something she had only ever been ambiguously aware of for the past year but did her best to bury. Only now, as Janeway stood there entirely frozen in place did she realize with dread that whatever she was feeling was not going to simply go away this time, growing more and more defined with each passing millisecond.

Without meaning to, her eyes lingered over Seven for an exceedingly long time. Janeway wondered if that was what Seven had worn to her date with Lieutenant Chapman and was subsequently surprised with herself at the bitter connotation that shadowed her musings.

“You look very beautiful,” said Janeway, her voice bordering on more of a whisper than her normal tone.

Dazed and delighted by the compliment, Seven could feel her heart quivering in her chest and the corners of her mouth curving upward, seemingly of their own volition.

“Thank you Captain. You look beautiful as well,” she returned sincerely.

Grateful to be shaken out of her trance by Seven’s response, Janeway looked down at her own outfit and back at Seven, allowing a wry grin to form on her lips.

“Thank you, but I’m afraid I didn’t put as much effort into my clothes,” Janeway admitted with embarrassment, “I was running a bit late and just threw this on.”

She tugged emphatically at the bottom of her blouse, a dark blue medium sleeved v-neck that partially exposed her collarbone and chest. The blouse ran down the length of Janeway’s petite torso and met with her black uniform slacks and her sleek Star Fleet issue boots.

No matter how much Janeway depreciated her hasty ensemble, it more than met with Seven’s approval. Janeway looked nearly the same as she normally did, the only discrepancy being the top half of her uniform was replaced by her modest but elegant blouse. Even still, Captain Janeway looked extraordinarily lovely and the stark difference in their appearances did not seem to discourage Seven nor detract from the experience as she originally feared. The more she thought about it however, it was perhaps best that Janeway didn’t show up wearing anything more than what she had on currently. Seven’s breath caught in her throat as an image of Janeway in an accentuating dress came unbidden to her mind.

“It is quite sufficient Captain,” assured Seven, glancing down at her dress, “I was uncertain if we were to follow a dress code traditional for dates.”

“I suppose we didn’t exactly discuss it,” Janeway said dryly, keeping her gaze from roaming downward past Seven’s dimpled chin. “Nevertheless it looks like things worked out. Is the program ready?”

“Yes, Captain,” Seven replied dutifully.

“Shall we go in then?” Janeway asked with a small smile.

Less than prepared to plunge herself into this great unknown, Seven drew in a breath and released it, nodding mutely.

Motioning for Seven to join her, Janeway strode towards the entrance. Side by side, the two women approached the doors and they automatically parted for them, revealing the setting of Sandrine’s. Only it wasn’t quite Sandrine’s.

To Seven’s astonishment, the pleasant sound of a piano playing softly in the background immediately reached her ears as they entered and descended the short flight of stairs to the dining area. Sandrine’s modified appearance resembled that of a small but fancy, rustic style restaurant. While the incandescent lighting was very much the same, the bar was reduced in size by almost half with the remaining space taken up by a few small tables.

A chestnut colored baby grand piano occupied the middle of the establishment to which all the beautifully polished wooden tables surrounded, leaving enough space on the floor for those who wished to dance. Through the opening of the propped up lid, Seven noticed a rather unassuming man dressed in a black suit sitting behind the piano and realized he was the source of the lovely music.

There was a shortage of patrons in this program, allowing for a more private and subdued environment that left Seven with a comfortable demeanor and a steady decrease in her apprehension.

Taking all of this in with genuine interest, Seven never would have guessed that she’d be back in the holodeck under these same circumstances. The fact that she was here now with Captain Janeway of all people wasn’t even within the realm of possibility. Yet there they were, being escorted by the host to the back of the restaurant where they had a clear view of the piano player. The host brought them to a cozy table for two, adorned with a low, bronze candelabrum in the center. Verdant vines and white hydrangeas surrounded the candelabrum in a beautiful arrangement. The soft glow of the candles only carried so far, creating a warm and intimate atmosphere around the table itself, perfect for two people to settle into.

“Enjoy,” the host said cordially with a slight bow and walked away, leaving the two women standing awkwardly at the table. Seven made a motion to sit down but Janeway quickly raised a hand to stop her.

“Wait Seven,” she said suddenly, “let me play the traditional male lead.”

Janeway insinuated herself between the puzzled blonde and the chair and pulled out the chair, gesturing for Seven to sit down. Understanding the intent and partially amused, Seven carefully sat down as the older woman scooted the chair forward in time to meet with Seven. Pleased with herself, Janeway walked around the table and sat in the chair opposite from Seven.

“‘Traditional male lead’, Captain?” Seven queried, her ocular implant scarcely catching the light as it raised up.

“Well yes,” Janeway replied with a slight chuckle, “the purpose of the practice date is to be as authentic as possible so that you’re better prepared for a real date. You have to treat me as if I’m your date so you can practice, therefore I need to play the part.”

“I believe I understand,” said Seven, watching a sharply dressed garçon nearing their table with a pitcher of water and two menus.

He placed the menus in front of the two women and customarily poured each of them a glass of water.

“Something to drink from the menu?” he asked.

“Seven? Would you like some wine or champagne?” Janeway asked, clarifying for the ex-Borg.

“I would prefer not to, alcohol negatively affects my cybernetic systems,” she answered hesitantly, ashamed of her inability to imbibe alcohol.

“Ah.” Janeway’s lips twitched, the memory firmly asserting itself in her mind of a particular incident in Engineering when the young woman accidentally became inebriated from one glass of champagne. Only through an absurd amount of focus was Janeway able to keep her face as bland as possible when she remembered watching a drunk and adorable Seven being hastily escorted out by the Doctor. “No worries, I understand. Would you mind if I had a glass of wine? I like to indulge on occasions like this.”

“No, Captain.”

Hearing Seven address her again so formally in this setting made Janeway frown briefly, feeling marginally uncomfortable with it though she could not explain why. Overlooking it in the interim, she turned to the patiently waiting garçon and asked for a glass of their best red wine. With an ingratiating nod, the garçon left to fetch the wine.

“Now then, I don’t know about you but I’m pretty famished,” said Janeway, enthusiastically opening her menu.

“I am also experiencing hunger,” Seven stated quite blandly in variation, staring questioningly at her menu. “This however was not present in my date with the Lieutenant. We had food immediately brought to us.”

Smirking, Janeway looked up from her menu.

“I honestly wondered about that,” she said, leaning forward and furrowing her brow, “normally when people go to a restaurant they order what they want from a menu instead of having, what was it? Whole steamed lobsters brought to the table?”

Opening up her own menu, Seven nodded in affirmation. “That is correct.”

“Don’t get me wrong, lobster is delicious but a whole lobster,” she snickered at the very thought of it, “it’s not exactly ideal for a first date, as you no doubt experienced. Frankly I’m surprised. Was it Chapman’s doing or the program’s?”

“I am not certain, I may have been too preoccupied at the time to ask.”

Seven proceeded to scan her menu, dismayed that she was not entirely familiar with the entree names that were French in origin.

“Anyway,” the Captain paused, lifting her glass of water to her lips and taking a sip, “the point is, don’t order overly messy food on a date, especially food you can’t eat with a fork or spoon.”

“A wise precaution,” Seven agreed, unhappily remembering her attempt to break the lobster’s exoskeleton, splattering bits of lobster all over Chapman when she did so.

The garçon promptly returned, setting down a fancy stemmed glass of red Bordeaux wine on the table much to Janeway’s delight.

“Are we ready to order?” he inquired.

Looking at Seven expectantly, Janeway’s smile faltered when she noticed that the younger woman showed small signs of distress. Concerned, she reached across the table to touch the blonde's arm only to realize she was too far out of range. She wistfully settled for resting her hand on the surface of the table in Seven’s direction instead.

“Seven?”

“I apologize,” Seven answered, keeping her eyes trained on her menu, “I do not know what to order. I am not adequately acquainted with these dishes.” Her cheeks flushed.

Mindfully subduing her amusement and permitting nothing more than a sympathetic smile on her face, Janeway drew back and dismissed their holographic waiter for the time being.

“That’s alright,” Janeway soothed, her voice like velvet, “to be perfectly honest I don’t eat French cuisine that often myself,” she shrugged, “I’ve had maybe four different French dishes in my lifetime, mostly due to a lack of trying on my part.”

It didn’t quite put her at ease, but Seven appreciated her captain’s candor. She looked down at her menu again, her pale blue eyes scanning through each entree and their short descriptions. There was a moderate amount of ingredients that Seven was familiar with, having reluctantly tried them when she had to make the transition to the oral consumption of nutrition. But Seven was no closer to figuring out what she wanted to try and the Captain was waiting. At the risk of being disappointed, she strongly considered picking one at random so as not to be a burden on Janeway.

“We may be in a French restaurant,” Janeway thoughtfully piped up, “but it’s still the holodeck, you can order whatever you like. However,” she drawled, grinning and arching a challenging eyebrow, “if you’re interested in expanding your palate I can suggest a few dishes that I think you’d like.”

Seven was nothing if not consistent with her mannerisms, impulsively tilting her head in a familiar and inquisitive fashion. A characteristic that Janeway always found to be quite charming. Seven regarded the auburn haired woman for a moment and, feeling grateful for the continued assistance, welcomed Janeway’s recommendations.

Eager to talk about the dishes she thought Seven would enjoy, Janeway scooted closer to the table, bringing herself closer in proximity to her date-in-training. Head bent at an angle and leaning forward, she pointed out and explained each entree on the menu of note, her eyes occasionally wandering to Seven’s full lips and, alarmingly, to the beautiful younger woman’s chest. Exposed but within reasonable limits by the wonderful design of her dress, Janeway was granted by the heavens a generous view of a supple and smooth cleavage. They drew in her gaze like a moth to a flame and each time it elicited a quick clench of her fist, the sharp pain of nails digging into skin an effective but temporary solution to regroup her focus.

After spending some time discussing, deciding and breathing in Janeway’s aromatic scent, Seven was efficiently able to make her choice. In that time, she discovered with some gratification that her tastes in food seemed to align with that of her captain.

Having no further reason to remain within touching distance of Seven, Janeway reluctantly settled back into her chair, restoring the space between them. An amalgamation of relief and longing followed, consuming her and leaving turmoil in its wake. She wore her familiar mask of command and composure, giving no indication that there was anything wrong on the surface of her elegant features.

Anxious to prevail over her inner conflict and keep the evening rolling, Janeway summoned their garçon to the table, letting Seven order first before ordering the same dish herself.

“It won’t be long till we get our food,” Janeway remarked as the man strode off to the holodeck’s facsimile of the restaurant kitchen. “But while we wait on the food, this is the part in the date where we start to break the ice and get to know each other.”

“We already know each other, Captain,” Seven retorted, projecting a palpable air of confusion.

Again, Janeway frowned at the use of her formal title, feeling the same bout of discomfort and tapping into her innermost ability to ignore it.

“Yes, I’d like to think we do,” she conceded jokingly, “but remember Seven it’s a practice date. The point is to practice, including the art of getting acquainted with your date.”

During the interlude before their food was replicated and brought to them, Janeway explained some of the basics, highlighting the standard details one talks about on a date such as career, family, and personal characteristics. Before she had a chance to urge Seven to try talking about herself, the garçon diligently arrived with their food. He carefully placed steaming bowls of ratatouille in front of the two women, the exquisite aroma of the stewed vegetables wafting up to lovingly greet their sense of smell. Janeway couldn’t be sure of Seven’s initial reaction to her food since the former Borg had an emotional range similar to that of a Vulcan. But Janeway’s mouth was positively watering, looking forward to delicious food she didn’t have to prepare or replicate herself. And without Neelix’s culinary touch, to boot.

“Bon appétit,” the garçon said with a traditional French pronunciation before walking away.

As with anything that was new and unfamiliar to the analytical blonde, she studied her food, absorbing the visual details and the scent emanating from it. _A very agreeable scent_ , she mused, _almost as agreeable as the Captain’s._

“Well? Does it look appetizing?” Janeway beamed, anxiously awaiting her opinion.

“It certainly looks...colorful,” Seven replied candidly, one corner of her mouth curling up, “but yes, it does look appetizing.”

“Good, I really hope you like it.” The older woman fervently unraveled her cloth napkin. “We’ll continue practicing getting to know each other while we eat. Shall we dig in?”

“Yes, Captain,” came the cool, resonant response.

And just like that, the last of the Captain’s resolve had whittled away and she finally had about all she could take.

“I think for the duration of this evening,” Janeway paused, smiling weakly, “I’d prefer it if you called me Kathryn.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! This chapter contains graphic depictions of J7 cuteness.

It was not very often when Seven of Nine, formerly a drone of the dreaded Borg Collective, changed her mind about something once a conclusion was reached. It was perhaps more accurate to say that it was practically unheard of for the intelligent and aloof woman to be persuaded otherwise, a quality that had been ingrained in her for the majority of her existence. 

Concepts like individuality, compassion and spirituality were hard pills to swallow and were in constant conflict with her Borg upbringing. As a consequence of her Borg-like obstinance and a large source of friction between herself and the crew, Seven infamously deemed many things inefficient or irrelevant, the two not always being mutually exclusive. Among the many things she considered to be inept, it came as no surprise that food was one of them.

“Oral consumption is inefficient,” the ex-Borg coldly declared one day when the Doctor cheerfully informed her she was ready to start eating food, eliciting the tiniest of chuckles from Captain Janeway who was present for that conversation. Not only did Seven firmly maintain her stance on the tedium of consuming food, Neelix’s laughably bad cooking further solidified and evolved her views: oral consumption was both inefficient _and_ unsatisfying. Of course it was never the loveable Talaxian’s intention to dramatically contribute to her cynicism towards food, she was nonetheless subjected to his so-called cooking along with the rest of the crew. She seldom encountered food prepared by Neelix to be to her liking and she was never particularly motivated to sample any popular dishes from the replicator.

But when she took that first bite of her ratatouille, a French dish Captain Janeway highly recommended, Seven discovered right then and there what it was like to truly savor her food; to savor the taste and the softness of vegetables slowly cooked to perfection. Her Borg-enhanced sense of taste carried with it a distinct feeling of satisfaction to her partially cybernetic brain, causing the headstrong blonde to seriously reassess her disapproval and outright aversion to eating.

Revered as the Captain of Voyager and a living testament to beauty and brilliance, Kathryn Janeway held off from sampling her own food as she was far more interested in observing Seven consume her first bite of French cuisine. Dark red lips drew back from her teeth, forming a brilliant smile on her fine Irish features as she watched Seven’s expression transform from inquisitive to surprised elation. It wasn’t long before Seven had another spoonful of ratatouille at the ready when she heard what sounded like smothered laughter. Seven lifted her head, her glacier-blue eyes meeting greyish-blue ones that so clearly reflected the Captain’s gleaming expression.

“How is it?” Janeway asked, her broad smile never diminishing in the slightest.

Seven took a brief moment to consider her response, very nearly characterizing her food in a dry, Borg-like manner which would not have done it justice. Given Seven of Nine’s unique circumstances, conversation and socialization were not her forte, having yet to master them during her time aboard Voyager.

“It is very flavorful, I am enjoying the way it tastes,” she answered, hoping her response was adequate enough for the Captain.

Janeway’s eyelashes dipped and she made a small motion of triumph, her auburn hair bobbing as she shimmied slightly in her chair. She picked up her own spoon, stirring the vegetables around in the bowl and gathering up a small amount on the spoon.

“It’s always a risk trying new food, especially when you have someone like Neelix as the sole chef of the ship,” she said, making a wry face, “but I’m glad you like it.”

“Thank you Cap—,” the blonde’s eyes widened at her own error, “my apologies, _Kathryn_ ,” she amended with emphasis, making Janeway chuckle softly. “Thank you for suggesting it Kathryn.”

When Captain Janeway requested that Seven address her by her first name, the beautiful ex-Borg accepted it without question, hardly giving it a second thought. Now that she was faced with her first situation of having to use Janeway’s personal designation, something that was almost never appropriate to do on a Federation starship and completely unheard of on a Borg ship, it made her uncomfortable for a slew of reasons. But the utterance of Kathryn’s name from Seven’s lips also made her heart flutter and her skin tingle from head to toe as if the woman had touched her all over. 

“You’re welcome,” Kathryn said huskily, bringing the spoon up to her lips, “I’d be happy to introduce you to more dishes.” A blissful look came over her face as she ate, more or less mirroring Seven’s expression from earlier. “Mmm,” she moaned quietly, “you know, some people say that replicated food isn’t as good as food organically grown and made the traditional way, my mother being one of them,” she chuckled, “but this is delicious.”

“Although the methods of which food is produced differ,” Seven’s ocular implant raised up impertinently, “the end result is essentially the same. I highly doubt people can truly taste the difference.” 

Kathryn regarded her blonde date-in-training favorably, pursing her lips into a thin smile.

“My sentiments exactly.”

The two women went on to steadily devour their dinner with the gentle accompaniment of the piano in the background. While they dined, Kathryn strategically grilled Seven on the pertinent details of her life that was typical for a first date, encouraging the inexperienced woman to talk about herself. Though a bit rigidly and matter of factly, Seven answered each of Kathryn’s questions about her career and her interests, gaining a little more confidence in her ability to conversate over a meal with each answer. Seven’s fervent efforts and growing ease did not pass the Captain by; she made sure to give credit where credit was due, hoping the sincerity of her praises was well received by the younger woman. Following her captain’s example, an emboldened Seven ventured further out of her comfort zone with similar questions of her own, earnestly probing Kathryn about her personal life and family. 

Astonished at first, Kathryn swelled with pride and happily fielded Seven’s questions, allowing her beautiful date...no, her _colleague_ , she strictly reminded herself, the honor of getting to know more about the woman beneath the illustrious and lonesome rank of captain. Without even realizing, the two women fell headlong into a comfortable conversational groove, learning about and expanding upon the minutiae of each other’s lives. 

It was an overall valuable experience for Seven, even if she didn’t have much to divulge about herself that the Captain didn’t already know. Possessing the vaguest of memories from her childhood and knowing nothing outside of life as a Borg drone for eighteen years yielded very little for her to talk about. Seven had no stories of home and hearth to share. But she was more than content to listen to Captain Janeway bridge the gaps between the specifics of her life that Seven was already acquainted with, filling in the once dry details with warm and colorful emotions.

In between mouthfuls of food and conversation, Kathryn sipped on her wine, relishing the flavor that paired quite wonderfully with her food. Several times throughout dinner, Kathryn caught Seven out of the corner of her eye watching her drink her wine with curiosity. Lightly smacking her lips after another generous imbibing of wine, the auburn haired captain gazed at the woman across from her, the latter conveniently looking away at the moment Kathryn moved the glass away from her mouth and set it down. An irresistible grin made its way to the surface of the captain’s features.

“Would you like to try my wine, Seven?” she asked, sounding a little more mischievous than she intended, “it’s really good. A small sip shouldn’t affect you, especially since you’ve eaten some.”

Feeling a little embarrassed, Seven glanced down at the crystal glass in front of Kathryn.

“Yes, I would,” Seven replied, then added, “please.”

Kathryn’s long fingers slid down the stem to grip the base of the glass and she gladly held it out for Seven. Accepting the proffered glass, Seven gingerly grasped the stem and brought the rim of the glass to her lips. The Captain propped up her chin with both hands, watching the blonde closely. At first, the bitter taste of the wine caused Seven to make a face, but a sparsely sweet aftertaste soon followed and her frown subsided some.

“I am not certain I like this wine,” Seven remarked, disappointed. She handed the glass back to her captain.

“That’s quite alright,” Kathryn smiled tenderly, “Everybody’s different when it comes to wine. Some prefer their wine sweet, but I personally like them more on the dry side.”

Yearning to reintroduce the wine to her senses again, Kathryn took a sip, luxuriating in the bitter taste unlike Seven. She lifted the glass to indulge in another drink only to stop abruptly, holding it several centimeters away from her mouth. There on the rim of the glass she spied a lip print that didn’t quite belong to her. Kathryn stared at it for a moment and her eyes suddenly widened with realization, instinctively bringing up a hand to her mouth and lightly touching her lips. A slow burning sensation ensued in the pit of her stomach and it wasn’t from the wine. Had she been a little more cognizant of her actions, she would have avoided the rim where Seven had placed those full lips over. But she hadn’t, and she knew exactly what had taken place. Back on Earth, this was quite humorously known as an indirect kiss. The burning sensation moved beyond her stomach, spreading in two different directions: her chest and her lower regions.

Completely oblivious to the chaos that inundated the woman sitting opposite from her, Seven had resumed eating, her attention more focused on her food than the Captain. Only when she glanced up did she catch sight of Kathryn shifting uncomfortably in her chair, her expression like that of a brewing storm. Concerned, Seven opened her mouth to inquire what was troubling her, but Kathryn quickly flashed a smile, all traces of the dire look on her face gone in an instant. Seven kept silent, reflecting Kathryn’s smile instead.

They finished eating soon after, both women sufficiently sated and relaxed. Patting the corners of her mouth with her cloth napkin, Kathryn set it down beside her bowl and the garçon immediately swooped in to clear away their dishes. There was a small amount of red wine left in the glass which Kathryn nursed, making a conscious effort to avoid the other woman’s lip print. She hadn’t fully recovered from that ordeal. Tempered by Star Fleet and her time in the Delta Quadrant, many years of practiced mental discipline somehow hung by a thread and the telltale warmth still lingered in certain areas.

“So,” Kathryn started, moving her glass in a circular motion, “are you finding this practice date to be useful at all?”

“Yes, thanks to you I believe I have learned a great deal,” Seven replied, a surprising amount of appreciation in her voice.

“I’m pleased to hear it,” Kathryn dipped her head. She glanced in the direction of the piano and the pianist, one side of her mouth taking the form of a crooked half-grin. “Now there’s only one thing left for us to do on this date,” she added mysteriously.

The embers still smouldering within Kathryn intensified again, sweeping through and reclaiming its hold over her body. Utterly at its mercy and less inclined to fight it this time, she leaned into it and allowed what felt like the heat of a hundred suns consume her.

Apprehensive, Seven tilted her head to the side. “What would that be?”

“The dance,” Kathryn revealed in a thick voice, “would you care to try dancing with me?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank everyone enough for reading and waiting for me to churn out chapters. I never expected so many people to actually like what I've been writing, but nevertheless I have received many wonderful comments so far. The next and final chapter will be up soon!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final Chapter! This one is a bit of a mega chapter, but please enjoy.  
> Warning! This chapter contains extremely graphic depictions of J7 cuteness.

Initially blindsided for a good tenth of a second, Seven recoiled in horror. Her mouth fell partly open as she stared at Kathryn in disbelief. She did not anticipate nor consider the possibility that the Captain would be daring enough to ask such a thing. Especially not after Seven had accidentally injured Lieutenant Chapman during her first disaster of a date. It was still a great mystery to Seven that Captain Janeway had even offered to go on a practice date with her in the first place, and that mystery only grew more bewildering with Janeway's anomalous invitation to dance.

“I do not believe that would be wise,” Seven cautioned, “at the risk of questioning the integrity of your memory, the last time I tried dancing with someone I sent him to Sick Bay with a severe shoulder injury.”

Her gravely spoken words meant to serve as both a reminder and a warning, but they clearly had the opposite effect on Kathryn when a deep laugh erupted from the redhead.

“Trust me Seven, I haven’t forgotten,” Kathryn assured her blonde companion, the crookedness of her grin growing more pronounced, “there isn’t always dancing on dates, but I can teach you how to dance without sending your partner to the infirmary should you ever be asked to hit the dance floor again.”

Before she could talk herself out of it and knocking back the last of her wine for good measure, Kathryn rose from her chair. She ignored the sudden onset of weakness in her legs and walked around the table. Wearing the softest of expressions, she slowly extended an arm, the fabric of her sleeve riding up as she held out her hand in a semi romantic gesture. Seven of Nine stared at the narrow hand in front of her, fascinated and terrified. Fascinated at the thought of sharing a dance with the woman she admired and looked up to; terrified of messing up their dance and inflicting serious harm to the smaller built captain. 

Practice date or not, they were sailing along through it without incident and, thanks to Janeway’s efforts, it had a profoundly positive impact on the former Borg drone. If the amiable dinner between them was any indication, the chances that a dance with the Captain going horribly wrong was fairly minimal, and Seven had every confidence that this elegantly beautiful woman standing expectantly before her wouldn’t let her fail. Unlike the hapless Lieutenant, Seven deeply trusted this woman with her life and, if she were to believe in such things, her soul. 

Seven’s logic seemed adequately sound and her fascination won out in the end, outweighing her terror just enough to entice her to proceed. Peering into deep blue eyes, Seven recognized something else she had only seen a few times before but with less intensity - they were burning. Those eyes ignited something inside her this time, something she couldn’t be bothered to identify at the moment. Carefully, she took Kathryn’s hand and stood, the touching of their skin like electricity.

Kathryn led the taller woman to the small, unoccupied dance floor and turned to face her, reluctantly letting go of her hand. Neither of them made a move nor a sound, unsure of how to advance from this unprecedented situation. If she was being honest, Kathryn was making all of this up as she went along; there was no method to her madness, no premeditation. Well, perhaps a little premeditation. An uneasy smile on her face, Kathryn’s eyes quickly darted over to the piano player when a wonderful idea came to mind just in the nick of time. She held up an index finger.

“Wait here for a second,” she murmured.

Leaving behind a marginally confused Seven, Kathryn sauntered over to the baby grand piano and tactfully caught the pianist’s attention. Leaning in, she whispered something in his ear and he stopped playing, nodding receptively and smiling. Kathryn straightened and set her sights on the woman standing alone on the dance floor, looking breathtakingly statuesque in the incandescent lights overhead. 

Clamping down on the rush of nerves, she slowly and deliberately made her way back to the tall blonde, her hips slightly swaying. Every step she took gave her the eerie impression that she was walking towards the edge of a cliff, preparing to cast herself over into a void. A sweet, irresistible void called Seven of Nine.

Eventually coming to a stop just a short distance away, Kathryn looked up at her beautiful date - yes, her _date_ , she admitted with difficulty - and exhaled a subtle but shaky breath. The pianist watched the two women with his hands poised over the keys, patiently waiting for a cue to start playing. 

“Just let me do the leading please,” Kathryn said dryly, a small, coy smile on her face, “and try to refrain from improvising.”

Emphatically unopposed to the directive, Seven nodded curtly. No one, not even the Borg Queen herself could convince Seven to try improvising this time around. 

The Captain lifted her left hand and positioned it off to the side, her palm open and tilted upward. Anticipating the electric sensations again, Seven placed her human hand over Kathryn’s, gripping it lightly. Her breathing hitched as she felt a gentle squeeze in return. 

That was just the easy part. Kathryn knew it was only going to get harder from there. She moved to lay her other hand on the woman’s midsection, all the while giving it a searing glance. Seven’s slender waist looked as though it was begging to be touched. Head in a fog, she somehow stopped herself just before she made contact, remembering the need for certain manners.

“May I?” she probed, self-conscious of how husky her voice sounded.

Seven’s eyes followed Kathryn’s to the hand hovering over her waist. Appreciative but a bit puzzled at the Captain’s thoughtfulness, Seven nodded again.

“Yes.”

Now that she had Seven’s blessing, her hand eagerly met with Seven’s waist. She resisted the tantalizing urge to caress it with her fingers and explore further. Instinct now at the helm of her actions, she gently drew Seven closer to her, comfortably easing into the blonde’s alluring orbit like a starship, feeling the threat of Seven’s gravity pulling her in further. She inhaled sharply when their breasts lightly brushed each other and the two women locked eyes.

Finally seeing his ideal opportunity, the piano player began to play the intro. Hearing the music, Kathryn started to move, swaying at first while pulling Seven along with her. The song, a slow but buoyant jazz-like melody began to crescendo and Kathryn expertly led her date along in a graceful variation of a waltz.

Similar to her dance with Chapman, Seven easily followed the Captain’s movements. She was guided a few steps from one side to the other, a rather simple maneuver. Then Kathryn deviated with fluid execution, leading the younger woman to step backwards, to the side, forward and to the side again, successfully completing the box step and repeating the order of motions.

The steps required little concentration, affording them the opportunity to drink in each other’s presence. Within seconds of their dance, Seven’s body seemed to naturally melt into the Captain’s, completely giving herself over to the older woman’s whims. It was pure intimate bliss being so close to Kathryn, inhaling her scent and looking into dark blue eyes that were still ablaze. This dance felt entirely different, sensual and arousing; whereas with Chapman it felt platonic and a trifle forced. _Is this romance?_ the analytical part of Seven wondered, _is this what it’s supposed to feel like?_ As if in response to her thoughts, Seven’s heart rate and respiration steadily increased.

It was with the best intentions that Kathryn asked Seven to dance, hoping it would be to Seven’s benefit for her future dates. But she recognized that deep down it wasn’t true, that she had her own ulterior motives for wanting to dance with Seven, and she felt the subsequent pang of guilt. The magnetic pull of Seven, whether the ex-Borg was aware of it or not, was absolutely relentless, and Kathryn had no choice but to allow herself to indulge, to let herself give into these selfish desires after years of self-imposed celibacy.

They continued to dance, swept up in each other’s movements and altogether lost in the moment. The song crescendoed again halfway through and Kathryn felt the playful urge to deviate from their waltz. Carefully, she lifted her partner’s hand and, with a sparkle in her eyes, guided an astonished Seven through a spin. Despite her lack of experience, Seven performed the move decently, pivoting her feet at the right moment and coming back to meet with Kathryn. Seven looked into the redhead’s smiling face, detecting hints of mischief as they assumed their previous position. She arched an eyebrow.

“Intriguing,” the blonde remarked sarcastically, “so that is how the twirl is done.”

“This was meant to be educational after all,” Kathryn retorted, immediately chastising herself for being duplicitous

It was hard for Seven not to smile in that moment; she was having the time of her life with the Captain. But Kathryn wasn’t quite done. With a very specific goal in mind, she methodically led Seven into another spin, only this time, still holding onto Seven’s hand, Kathryn maneuvered her hand over the taller woman’s head while she was in mid turn. She dropped her arm over the front of Seven’s body and wrapped it around her midsection, pulling her backward and pinning the woman in a very sensual position with her back pressed tightly against Kathryn.

They stayed like that for several precious moments, languidly swaying from side to side and not necessarily in keeping with the music. Held snugly in place, Seven craned her neck to the side but couldn’t quite meet the Captain’s eyes in this position. She watched her as best as she could from her peripheral vision instead, taking pleasure in the warmth emanating from Kathryn’s body and permeating her back.

Being a few centimeters shorter, Kathryn delicately rested her cheek against the woman’s whitish blonde hair that draped the side of her neck, nostrils flaring as she breathed in Seven’s clean, feminine scent. Disoriented, Kathryn closed her eyes and released a small, inaudible sigh. She was losing herself in that scent and slowly being driven to the brink of madness by the feel of the woman in her arms. Fearing that she was overstaying her welcome, Kathryn grudgingly lifted her arm and released Seven from her hold, leading her to rotate the opposite direction. Seven pirouetted and came back to face Kathryn. There were no words between them this time, only fleeting looks and quickened breaths.

As they resumed their normal waltz, Seven noticed with disappointment that the song was reaching an end.

“What is he playing?” she asked, realizing only now that she rather enjoyed the melody.

“A classic jazz piece called Fly Me to the Moon,” Kathryn replied, “a slowed down piano rendition of it, anyways.” The smile on her face seemed to denote something more, but Seven couldn’t decipher it.

Tilting her head in acknowledgment, Seven filed the information away for a later time and brought her focus back to their dance, aspiring to enjoy Captain Janeway’s presence as much as she could before the song inevitably ended. Like all good things, however, the song eventually did come to an end, even though the pianist extended the outro as much as he could for them. He was quite intuitive for a piano playing hologram.

The abrupt silence that followed stilled their movements, but the two couldn’t seem to part company just yet. Instead they maintained position, holding and watching each other intently, waiting for one another to make a move. Kathryn bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to regain some control, letting go of Seven’s hand and waist.

“You danced beautifully,” she spoke softly, admittedly still caught up in Seven’s gravity.

“I had an exceptional teacher,” Seven answered in an equally soft voice. 

Programmed to continue playing music for the restaurant, the pianist started up another song which, in some measure, brought them out of their reverie. Using the opportunity to take a much needed breath, Seven inhaled, the extra supply of oxygen clearing away some of the haze that had settled over her mind. The restoration of clarity brought with it an inconvenient reminder so unsettling and distressing that she could not ignore it. 

“You mentioned earlier that this was the last activity of our date,” Seven blurted suddenly.

“Well,” Kathryn thought for a moment, “this could be considered the end of the date, yes.”

Seven’s heart lurched and her throat constricted. She didn’t want this practice date to end, surely there was more to it?

“Where do we go from here?” the blonde dared to ask, afraid of what the answer would be; unsure of what she wanted it to be.

Unable to respond immediately, Kathryn deliriously contemplated that very same question. Where could they go from here? What could fate possibly hold in store for them? Still uncertain of Seven’s feelings, much less her own, Kathryn decided to call upon older dating traditions to help her test these uncharted waters.

“That depends…” the Captain trailed off, eyelashes dipping almost seductively, “if a date is considered to be a mutual success, your date might offer to walk you back to your place of residence to prolong your time together before parting ways.”

“Place of residence,” Seven echoed, “but, on Voyager my place of residence would simply be Cargo Bay 2,” she said with uncertainty.

Kathryn pursed her lips into a fine line to keep from grinning. The younger woman’s frankness could be so disarming at times.

“Yes, well,” she drawled, anxiously tugging at her sleeve before continuing, “could I walk you back to Cargo Bay 2? If you’re up for it, that is.” 

Seven’s eyes lit up. Eager for any excuse to prolong their time together as Captain Janeway put it earlier, she could hardly find a reason to decline.

“That would be acceptable,” Seven nodded, wincing at the dryness of her own response.

The Captain’s eyes trailed down to her shoes, nervously tucking a stray lock of auburn hair behind her ear. Though it wasn’t exactly an answer dripping with enthusiasm, not the one that she was hoping to hear anyway, Kathryn reminded herself that this was normal for Seven. And if she wasn’t mistaken, as impassive as that response was, it still held some promise. 

Every inch of her body vibrating like a warp core, she placed her hand on Seven’s arm just below the Borg implant in her tricep, the taller woman’s skin exquisitely smooth to the touch.

“Ready to leave then?” Kathryn inclined her head in the direction of the exit. 

Seven quickly glanced around, taking stock of her surroundings one final time. As pointless and frivolous as most holoprograms were, she hoped that she would have the chance to revisit this particular holoprogram, preferably in Kathryn’s company. Seven’s chest swelled at the thought then immediately deflated as reality sunk in. What reason would the Captain have for taking her back here again? The dinner tonight was pure happenstance, a rare anomaly that was likely never to happen again. Getting enough of her surroundings to fondly look back on from eidetic memory, Seven brought her attention back to Kathryn.

“I am ready.”

***

They left the dance floor together, receiving a polite nod and an all too knowing smile from the pianist when they passed the baby grand. Catching a glimpse of his expression, Kathryn blanched. Exactly how transparent was she in that moment that even a supposedly non-sentient hologram could see it and call her out so brazenly like this? Could Seven see how open she left herself? 

Warmth creeping into her cheeks, she called out to the ship’s computer to end the program as they exited the holodeck. Aside from the stolen glances and the occasional absent minded comment, they slowly made their way to Cargo Bay 2 in silence, their shoulders provocatively brushing each other as they walked and igniting sparks with every indiscreet touch.

Lost in thought and drowning in emotions, Kathryn and Seven found themselves standing outside the doors to Cargo Bay 2. The auburn haired captain swallowed hard, her throat inconveniently parched. She motioned for Seven to enter the bay first, following the younger woman inside and making note of the doors closing behind them. They were truly alone now. Away from the prying eyes and ears of both holograms and crewmembers.

Unsure of what was to come next, Seven stopped and turned on her heel to face her captain.

“Thank you for walking me back, Kathryn,” she ventured, confident that was the appropriate thing to say at that moment, “I cannot properly express how much I enjoyed our practice date.”

With a mere look, Captain Janeway could reduce even the most overconfident of Star Fleet officers to insignificant rubble. Just as her glare could strike fear in people’s hearts, Kathryn had a look that could absolutely melt hearts too, invoking intense emotions of tenderness and warmth in people. She gazed at Seven, giving her the full brunt of that heart melting look.

“You’re welcome,” Kathryn managed in a thick voice, “I had a wonderful time as well. Are you going to attempt another date after this?” Before Kathryn could stop the words from tumbling out, “Will you ask Lieutenant Chapman out again?” She gritted her teeth behind a forced smile, wishing more than anything that she hadn’t asked.

The younger woman frowned, experiencing a fair amount of confusion by the inquiry. She was receiving what seemed like mixed signals from the Captain.

“If I do decide to go out on another date, I do not believe I will seek out the Lieutenant again,” Seven’s words were straightforward, “I feel nothing romantic in nature towards him.”

Relaxing her jaw and exhaling the breath she was subconsciously holding, Kathryn’s mouth formed a soundless “oh”. She loosely crossed her arms over her chest, trying a little too hard to appear casual. 

“If you do happen to decide to go out on a date again, I hope it goes much better.”

“Thank you,” Seven replied, feeling her heart lurching again. Their date and their time together was again coming to an end. They would part ways from here, and Kathryn would go back to being Captain Janeway and Seven would go back to being Janeway’s ex-Borg Astrometrics Officer.

Though every part of her screamed in protest, Kathryn resolved to take her leave of Seven. All of the signs she perceived throughout their date that Seven reciprocated any romantic feelings for her was more than likely just wishful thinking on the older woman’s part. Wishful and foolish. If she could successfully leave now, she could spare herself from the heartbreak and work on burying these feelings once and for all, never to see the light of day again.

“Good night, Seven,” she said, surprised at how steady her voice seemed. Allowing herself one last look of longing at the incredible woman she could never have, Captain Janeway politely smiled and turned to leave, her hands clenched to oblivion by her sides.

“Kathryn,” Seven called out suddenly, tiny traces of desperation in her voice. 

The Captain stopped and turned back to face Seven, almost certain that she heard something in that cool, collected voice.

“You failed to mention what comes next after my date succeeds in walking me home.”

“Oh,” Kathryn breathed, more than a little dazed, “I didn’t tell you?”

Determined to get an answer, Seven slowly closed the frustrating gap between them and stood before the Captain.

“No, you did not,” Seven raised a challenging eyebrow, “It is highly unlikely that my date would simply leave me in this manner if our date was successful.”

Kathryn laughed quietly to herself and lowered her head for a moment, finding herself delightfully disarmed again by the blonde’s candor.

“No, I suppose they wouldn’t,” Kathryn was all too happy to concede, “especially if the date was indeed a success and there was a strong mutual attraction between you and...your date.”

“So then Kathryn,” Seven looked into the smaller woman’s sapphire eyes, “what comes next?”

Kathryn inhaled sharply.

“Well…” she hesitated, trying very hard to think while her head was spinning, “after walking you home, your date will at the very least want to ask you out on a second date.”

“Supposing I agree to a second date, what then?” Seven inquired, doing little to curb her insistence.

Her breath quickening in time with her heartbeat, Kathryn was having difficulties holding the blonde’s intense gaze. If she was interpreting all of this correctly, could this be Seven’s way of throwing down the gauntlet? More importantly, did she have the courage to pick it up?

“Your date may, or may not try to kiss you,” Kathryn’s voice impossibly sensual.

Seven blinked, her expression unreadable at first before eventually softening. She couldn't explain it, but she somehow knew that this was the conclusion she desperately wanted to coax out of the Captain, and her intuition, coupled with her tenacity seemed to pay off.

Kathryn pursed her lips, once again being consumed by overwhelming heat in all the right places. Left with no choice but to pick up the proverbial gauntlet, she stared at Seven with hot, hooded eyes, searching the pale blue irises for any signs of doubt.

“May I...demonstrate?” her words came out in a whisper.

Seven’s chest rapidly rose and fell. “Yes.”

Denying herself the chance to think, Kathryn instinctively leaned into Seven, reintroducing their bodies from the intimate dance they shared. Her senses flooded every which way, she laid a hand on the blonde’s arm and brought her other hand up to gently grasp Seven’s dimpled chin. Subconsciously moistening her lips, she closed the remaining distance between them and placed a chaste kiss on Seven’s cheek first, then leisurely traced a path to her mouth, thoroughly pressing her own lips against full, divine ones. 

Having never been kissed before, Seven found it to be a strange sensation at first. Then Kathryn started to move her lips over hers, brushing against them firmly but slowly. Whether it was out of some hidden human instinct or Borg conformity, Seven cautiously mimicked the movement and felt pleasurable physiological sensations coursing through her most intimate areas. 

She heard a low moan coming from the redhead and the sensations intensified, leaving her wanting more. Forgetting to breathe in the excitement of it, Seven gasped rather audibly. Stiffening, Kathryn promptly pulled back. Interpreting that as a sign that the blonde was having misgivings, Kathryn let go of her chin and tried to disentangle herself.

“I’m sorry,” she lamented, wearing a pained expression, “that was probably too much…”

Her eyes wide with panic, Seven swiftly reached out and grabbed Kathryn’s arms.

“No,” Seven pleaded, “it was not too much. I simply neglected to breathe properly.”

Kathryn’s head jerked back slightly and she frowned, processing Seven’s words for a moment before bursting out into laughter.

“What is amusing?” the blonde tilted her head, bewildered and so utterly intrigued by this lovely woman she was holding onto.

“Oh, it’s nothing really,” Kathryn said finally, a wide grin on her face, “so, you’re okay then?”

It was Seven’s turn to seductively lean into Kathryn, her hands traveling up the older woman’s arms and over her shoulders, clasping her hands behind her neck in a passionate embrace. She felt Kathryn’s beautiful auburn hair gently tickling her forearms.

“I believe I am more than okay,” Seven retorted, surprising the Captain with a playful smile, “after the kiss, what comes next?” she had the audacity to ask, her Borg confidence surfacing.

Recognizing the all too familiar impertinence, Kathryn narrowed her eyes and smirked at the taller woman. As much as she was enjoying the wondrous feel of Seven pressed up against her again and all the sweet promises their embrace held in store, Kathryn needed to take this slow. She had already gone far over the line, throwing her strict resolve to abstain from romantic relationships right out the airlock. The practice date was supposed to be just that, but the universe, where all the stars and planets had aligned just right, seemed to have other plans for the Captain and her ex-Borg subordinate. Yielding to her desires for the moment, Kathryn lovingly wrapped her arms around Seven’s waist, smiling and biting her lip in an effort to stay grounded.

“How about a second date for now,” Kathryn purred, “tomorrow evening, my quarters?”

Enthralled with the promise of sharing another date in the privacy of Kathryn’s quarters, her body tingling and the anticipation mounting, Seven gazed at the Captain, studying every millimeter of that elegant face.

“That would be acceptable,” Seven readily agreed, adding affectionately, “Kathryn.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! It took me a long time to write, but thanks for accompanying me on this journey. There may or may not be a possible epilogue coming. This is the episode we all deserved but was robbed of. I may just have to rewrite all the episodes! :3
> 
> UPDATE: Currently in the process of writing a epilogue! Please stay tuned.


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot say thank you enough to everyone for reading, you are all so wonderful! I'd also like to give a special shout out to my friends for doing a little beta-reading and encouraging me throughout this journey. I hope you enjoy the epilogue. At the risk of wearing out the meaning of the words, thank you again!
> 
> Warning! Contains some light smut. ;)

There was an uncommonly lengthy period of inactivity as the Federation starship Voyager, stranded in the Delta Quadrant over five years ago, continued its long arduous journey back home to loved ones and the sweet familiarity of the Alpha Quadrant. Largely undeterred by this harsh reality, Voyager’s crew, a harmonious mix in both race and creed, by their very nature thrived on action, science and the exploration of the unknown. ‘Never a dull moment’ was the status quo out here in the Delta Quadrant, and it was a preferable state of existence than trying to play it safe despite the enormous dangers that came with it; the dangers they had already endured.

That’s not to say they didn’t appreciate a smooth sail every now and then. Their goal was to ultimately reach the Alpha Quadrant sooner than the projected time it would take and safely, with their lives intact and the ship in one piece no less. But in order to accomplish this feat, the crew knew and accepted long ago that this journey wouldn’t be without its risks. Various improbable circumstances allowed for Voyager to travel a great deal of distance during the last five years, shaving off over a third from their original 70 year journey. But those five years had been far from a pleasure cruise. They faced more than their fair share of bumps, bruises, plasma burns, even death itself trying to reach home.

Nevertheless, the unexpected interval was a welcome change of pace and gave them a chance to catch their collective breath. Not a single hostile alien race or life threatening spatial anomaly appeared to rudely greet them in the vastly wild frontier during the last sixty light years they had traveled. While they passed through and catalogued the numerous star systems spanning those light years, the only bit of excitement they experienced during that time were the upgrades they had been trying to integrate with Voyager’s engines and the occasional detours they took to survey uninhabited M-class planets for deuterium and other valuable resources.

With Voyager averaging a speed of Warp 7.5 and minimal stops, nearly 33 days had passed since Captain Kathryn Janeway and former Borg drone Seven of Nine shared a fateful evening of dinner and dancing together in the holodeck. Ironically enough, the original aim was to enhance Seven’s understanding and experience with romance, a concept as foreign to her as individuality. When the former drone became discouraged with her experimentation following an unpleasant date with one of the members of the crew, Captain Janeway felt a staggering desire to renew the young woman’s interest in romance, against her better judgment. With Janeway offering to serve as Seven’s personal dating guide for the evening, what was meant to be an innocent practice date between friends turned into something much more significant than either of them were prepared for.

Slate-gray eyes glazed over and a PADD held slack in her hand, Captain Janeway peered out of the transparent aluminum windows of her Ready Room, completely absorbed in the blurred stream of stars whisking by. For what seemed like the millionth time, against her will, the memories of that evening came flooding back, replaying themselves over and over without respite. Enveloped by the warm emotions associated with those memories, her face slowly broke out into a smile and she subsequently shook her head. As lovely as those memories were, they sometimes made it difficult for her to work, especially in the solitude of her Ready Room.

Acting like a love sick teenager and feeling every bit as silly, Janeway leaned back in her chair and rubbed her forehead, sighing heavily. She glanced down at the PADD she had been reading from a few minutes ago before spacing out and tightly pursed her lips. Janeway could hear her inner captain reprimanding her for losing focus from her duties and letting her mind wander, even if it had wandered into sweet memories of dancing and kissing a certain blonde Astrometrics Officer.

Despite Voyager being on a nice hiatus from constant danger, there was no shortage of work for the auburn haired captain and her crew. Though they were cautiously optimistic in the beginning after receiving the engine schematics from the J’haelani over a month ago, on the very same day as that phenomenal date, making the modifications to Voyager’s propulsion systems proved to be slightly more difficult than they originally anticipated. 

Consistent with their initial findings, the overall makeup of the J’haelani’s propulsion systems were compatible with that of Voyager's. What they did not account for, the more they dug into the schematics, were several unidentifiable elements that were used in the engine designs. Unfamiliar to both the crew and Voyager’s vast computer database, they could only surmise that they were metal-based elements that Federation scientists had yet to discover. Lacking the necessary atomic data on these mystery elements meant that it would be impossible to replicate them, which would no doubt cause complications.

Still within communications range, Janeway attempted to reach out to the J’haelani people, going through the proper diplomatic channels to speak to the delegation she had previously worked with. Much to the Captain’s chagrin, the reserved, aloof race declined to supply them with that information, citing laws similar to that of the Prime Directive. The reasoning they gave, as maddening as it was to hear, was that although they had no problem sharing their propulsion technology, the burden of identifying the missing elements was on the crew of Voyager. Having no further diplomatic recourse, Janeway respectfully withdrew her request for assistance, relying instead on her talented crew to do their best despite the missing information. Using what they could from the schematics, they worked round the clock applying tweaks here and there on Voyager’s engines, raising the overall efficiency of their impulse and warp drive by twelve percent. A small success, but a success nonetheless. 

As predicted, the crew ran into a barrier and were unable to implement any more of the aliens’ propulsion technology without those key elements, but Captain Janeway and her officers refused to completely abandon the endeavor. After the reconfigurations were implemented and tested, Janeway ordered her senior staff, most notably Seven, B’elanna and Harry, to make it their top priority to find alternative means to compensate for the metals or metalloids they were lacking. If it were a simple matter of containment or conduits, their standard alloy configuration would have sufficed, but that would have been too easy. Nothing ever came easy, at least not to Voyager.

Being the leading authorities in the subject and shouldering most of the work as ordered, B’elanna, Seven of Nine and Harry logged many hours in the holodeck and Engineering together, performing simulation after simulation and re-configuring the antimatter and plasma relays. They worked long and hard, assisted by the crew members from Engineering and volunteers from the Science department. Janeway had even joined them on several occasions, attempting to lend a hand or a fresh pair of eyes. Having every intention of helping at first, however, Janeway would almost always gravitate towards Seven as the tall blonde worked, exchanging softly spoken words and secret fervent smiles when they thought nobody was looking. Overall, they made little headway in terms of success, but the resilient crew was not ready to give up just yet. Not when it seemed like they had all the time in the world.

More than likely sitting down for much longer than what was recommended, Janeway stretched her legs out underneath the desk and arched her back, biting her teeth down hard and groaning when she felt those back muscles stretching. A popping sensation from her spine rippled through her weary body and she sharply exhaled with relief. Re-energized and settling back into captain mode, Janeway straightened in her chair and concentrated on the PADD, committing herself to reading the rest of the Commander’s daily report on the project. There wasn’t anything new in the report, other than the trio’s next plan of attack after hitting another dead end, but Janeway required any and all updates from Chakotay no matter how insignificant they seemed.

Finally, when there was nothing further to read, the Captain happily set the PADD down in favor of her coffee mug as a sort of reward to herself. She felt the telltale lack of weight when she lifted it up and immediately frowned, looking ruefully down into the mostly empty mug and wishing that Voyager was advanced enough to automatically refill her coffee with a mere thought.

“Computer, what’s the time?” Janeway called out, finishing off what little coffee remained.

“The time is 17:36,” stated the feminine voice of the computer.

Before she could really stop it, Janeway felt a wave of excitement and perked up, grinning from ear to ear. The captain within her, however, quickly reasserted her authority over the lovesick redhead. She caught her upper lip between her bottom teeth and hung her head, admonishing herself again for emotions that seemed unbecoming for a woman her age and rank. Willing a sense of calm, Janeway got to her feet and made for the replicator to get a refill of coffee.  _ She already had five cups of coffee that day, what was one more? _ she reasoned with herself,  _ there was still time after all _ ...

Returning to her desk with her prize in hand, she scooted her computer console towards her and keyed in the necessary command authorizations to bring up all the available data on the engine refit project. When she wasn’t working on daily ship logs, crew evaluations or whatever crisis they happened to be facing at the time, she dedicated most of her free time to helping her crew unravel the mystery of the missing elements that made up the alien propulsion technology. Captain Janeway was many things and every captain in Star Fleet had their specialties, but she was a scientist through and through. As frustrating as it was, this problem was of a delicious variety, being a combination of science and engineering and Janeway honestly enjoyed the challenge. 

There was a considerable amount of time left before the Beta shift was over. On a normal day, or as normal as it could possibly get in the Delta Quadrant, Janeway typically worked through both the Alpha and Beta shifts, give or take a few hours before retiring to her quarters. When there were times she couldn’t seem to switch off, despite the Doctor’s vehement protests, she often found herself working through the late night Gamma shift as well. But today was different; it called for a strict adherence to schedule if she was to keep a certain _ appointment  _ this evening. Staying mindful of the time, Janeway managed to work for another hour, keeping her mind surprisingly occupied enough for the minutes to fly by.

When the time came close to 18:30, Janeway had virtually zero difficulty switching off. Without any hint of guilt this time, she allowed a joyful smile to break through her scrupulous captain’s persona as she promptly terminated her console connection to Voyager’s main database. Pushing the console away as she stood, Janeway hummed the song she and Seven had danced to as she carried her empty mug to the replicator and recycled it, then proceeded to exit her Ready Room.

Commander Chakotay immediately stood from his command chair upon seeing the Captain walking out onto the Bridge, but she held up a hand and, failing to curb her emotions, smiled a little more jovially than she intended.

“At ease, Commander. I’m calling it a night,” she informed him.  Chakotay looked at her in shock, wondering to himself if he had indeed heard her correctly.

“It’s a little early for you isn’t it? Are you feeling alright?” he asked, his infectious smile reaching his eyes and wrinkling his tribal tattoo.

With her hands characteristically on her hips, Janeway pretended to throw her first officer the equivalent of a level 10 glare and smirked.

“I’m feeling perfectly fine, thank you. I just...have an appointment.”

Eyes lighting up with mischief, Chakotay dared to push his luck, although he knew it would backfire.

“Ah, got a hot date with someone?”

He knew her well enough to predict her response to his probing. As expected, Janeway’s faux glare became a little more genuine this time, indicating that he may have gone too far. Shaking her head, she turned her back on him and started for the turbolift, casually waving a hand as she walked off.

“Good night, Commander,” she said with an unmistakable tone of finality and disappeared behind the turbolift doors.

Sitting back down in his chair and resuming Bridge duty, Chakotay made sure to keep his laughter to himself, bringing a hand up to his mouth to hide his expression from any curious Bridge officers that may have been watching him. Most of the senior officers knew or had some idea that Captain Janeway and Seven of Nine were seeing each other ever since they caught wind of the ‘practice date’. But because the two women kept their budding romance under wraps for the time being, nobody dared to bring it up out of respect. That did not, however, stop Chakotay from prodding the Captain here and there in jest, testing the limits of their friendship with his impertinence. He wholeheartedly supported them of course, and always knew that there was something special about their relationship ever since Seven came onboard Voyager. It brought him great joy to see his Captain and friend allowing herself this form of happiness when she normally denied herself out of some twisted sense of punishment for her past actions. 

But it was still fun to get a rise out of Janeway about it. It wasn’t in his nature to be serious all the time; he had to poke the proverbial bear whenever he saw an opportunity. Chakotay leaned back and watched the activated viewscreen as Voyager continued to travel at Warp 7, musing about what the future had in store for those women.

***

Janeway entered her quarters and without meaning to, her gaze automatically fell to the couch affixed underneath the windows of her living area. Letting her thoughts stray to their first date while she was on duty was one thing, but Janeway truly had to employ stronger mental barriers to keep from thinking about what happened between the two women on that couch that very next night. Blushing from embarrassment among the other  _ feelings _ that began to creep through her body uninvited, Janeway forced herself to look away and walked into her bedroom, eagerly shrugging out of her uniform jacket that had suddenly become too hot to wear. She opened her closet doors and combed through the articles of civilian clothing she rarely wore, her mind intent on running through every detail of her second date with Seven now that she was no longer on duty.

As promised, Janeway and Seven shared in another lovely dinner together the following night, and in the complete solitude of Janeway’s quarters. Much like the previous night, Janeway had introduced Seven to another French dish that she thoroughly enjoyed, and at the Captain’s insistence, Seven even had her own glass of red wine to go with her meal. The wine was sweet and smooth, much easier to consume than Janeway’s preferred choice in wine. She tried her best to nurse her alcoholic drink in the event her Borg systems were affected, but because the wine went down so easily, she discovered a little too late that she had ingested quite a bit.

When Janeway suggested that they move over to the couch after they had finished eating, Seven stood from her chair and wobbled slightly. Despite the momentary loss of motor skills however, Seven felt fine. Better than fine. They made their way to the couch and Seven gleefully sat so close to Janeway that their thighs touched. 

A choked sound came from the older woman at the sudden feeling of Seven’s hot thigh pressing hard against hers. Chuckling nervously, Janeway inched away from the zealous blonde, not quite ready for that level of intimacy so soon after eating. She tucked a leg underneath her and casually leaned her shoulder against the back of the couch, still holding onto her glass of wine. Disappointed and a little confused at the absence of physical contact she achieved, Seven mimicked the captain and made herself as comfortable as she could without sacrificing her penchant for poise. 

The trademark crooked smile on her face, and the hoods of her eyes lowered a few millimeters, Janeway drank in the beautiful, golden haired woman sitting next to her, becoming positively intoxicated by her very presence.

“Is it safe to say this date was another success?” she asked in a tender purr, fully expecting an answer in the affirmative.

Recognizing the Captain’s playful tone, Seven tipped her head at an angle and flashed Janeway a small but powerful smile that showed not only from her lips, but from her piercing blue eyes as well that made Janeway melt in her seat.

“If my understanding of the phrase is correct, I am two for three,” the blonde responded. 

Others might have mistaken her tone of voice as arrogant, but Janeway knew that wasn’t how Seven meant to sound. The redhead let out a deep chuckle, elated at Seven’s response as well as the almost humorous manner in which she answered, and she gingerly sipped her wine. Seven watched her as she did so, paying extra close attention to the other woman’s dark red lips and wanting very much to reacquaint herself with them.

“Much like our previous date, however,” Seven said suddenly, “I am not familiar with this type of date or the activities we are to engage in now that we are in your quarters. Is sitting on the couch together after consuming a meal typical for a couple?”

_ Activities. Couple _ . The words reverberated in the older woman’s mind, the very implication of them nearly causing her to stumble over her own words as she answered.

“Yes, sitting on the couch is typical after dinner. It allows for the continuation of a good conversation while drinking a good glass of wine,” Janeway lifted her glass in emphasis, “really though,” she added a bit huskily, “it allows for us to enjoy each other’s company longer after the meal is finished.”

Janeway’s response, working in tandem with that deliciously smooth voice seemed to elicit a very familiar, very personal physiological reaction in Seven. She looked down at the wine glass she held in her Borg hand, analyzing the situation and pondering what she should do next, or rather, what she wanted to do next. Seven was grateful that her mind didn’t seem to be in a haze from the alcoholic content. But she did feel a trifle more bold, more determined to act on her feelings than normal. The wine glass didn’t have much wine left in it, so there was really no reason she needed to bring it with her as the Captain had done. She set the wine glass down on the coffee table in front of her, resolving to take the plunge and hoping that Janeway would be willing to join her on that plunge.

“Is the concept of ‘enjoying each other’s company’ on the couch exclusively limited to conversation and wine?” she asked, leering at the redhead and her brow raised challengingly.

Janeway frowned only for a few seconds before a look of realization washed over her features and she smirked, giving the false impression that she was averted to the idea Seven was insinuating when it was really quite the opposite. Nonchalantly, Janeway rested her temple on her free hand, attempting to resist many of the urges she was feeling. Why she was resisting at this point she wasn’t really sure anymore, as her body was positively crying out for contact. But her need to take things slow seemed to be chipping away with every second of Seven’s keen gaze.

“No, I suppose not,” she admitted slowly, breathing hitched, “there are other things two people can be doing…”

That was all the invitation the brazen former Borg needed, whether it was deliberate or not, and it took Seven a mere nanosecond to plan out her next series of actions. Seven reached for the glass of wine Janeway was holding onto like a crucifix, setting it down on the table next to her own nearly empty glass. Dazed, unable to utter a sound, Janeway helplessly watched as Seven turned back to face her, the ice blue eyes shifting back and forth between her own. Studying, analyzing, looking for any indication that she wanted her to stop. A few moments passed between them, tense and silent. Then, Seven did something that nearly sent Janeway soaring through the bulkheads.

Unbelievably emboldened by a combination of Borg candor and liquid courage, Seven gently pushed Janeway until her back was against the back of the couch and, very slowly, climbed onto Janeway’s lap. The skirt of her dress riding up as she moved, the blonde’s exposed thighs brushed against the Captain’s slacks with a resounding  _ swish _ , until she was effectively straddling the redhead. Still too stunned to speak, Janeway felt an enormous amount of heat radiating from the blonde’s body, her own body greedily absorbing that heat and reflecting it back tenfold.

“I…” Janeway tried to speak for some unknown reason, but Seven leaned in, her generous breasts pushing against hers and she felt the blonde’s hands near the base of her neck gently caressing, exploring along her collarbone and upper chest. “Oh…” Janeway moaned, abandoning any and all restraint or pesky thoughts of taking it slow.  _ Taking it slow??  _ her inner voice exclaimed,  _ like hell are you taking this slow, not when the most beautiful woman in the universe is settled into your damn lap! _

Hearing her captain’s soft moan only served to amplify and encourage Seven’s physiological needs. She fully allowed her human instincts to take over in that moment and leaned in further until her full, pink lips met Janeway’s. 

Her hands automatically cupped Seven’s face and without any hesitation, Janeway hungrily kissed back, her experience prompting her to take the lead, re-introducing every movement of her lips from the previous night. She then parted her lips and deepened the kiss, pleasantly surprising the blonde and sending electric waves through her abdomen and down to her more intimate area when Janeway slid her tongue against hers.

Their kiss wet and intensifying, wildly unchecked carnal urges building, Seven realized she couldn’t seem to stay still; at some point her body had begun to move on its own, squirming just a little in the beginning, evidently in response to the tantalizing kiss. But Janeway was doing things with her tongue that drove Seven crazy. Internal temperatures rising, moisture pooling, she was fully writhing and grinding against the captain, who eagerly responded in kind causing Seven to whimper vulnerably into Janeway’s mouth.

Janeway’s hands fell away from Seven’s face, one grasping Seven’s slender waist and desperately pulling the voluptuous blonde in tighter while the other ran up and down Seven’s thigh. Hips rubbing and teasing, their tongues languidly dancing in unison, it became increasingly apparent that they needed to explore  _ all _ the avenues. While Seven would have absolutely no issue with progressing further despite her inexperience, a warning klaxon began to sound off somewhere in the back of Janeway’s mind. 

She eased away, gently breaking off the kiss, panting heavily with desire and the taste of Seven lingering sweetly on her tongue. Her eyes fluttered open, taking in the sight of the gorgeous younger woman hovering over her and breathing hard, offering herself on a silver platter. 

“Kathryn?” Seven murmured inquisitively, her breath hot on Janeway’s face, hips no longer moving vigorously. 

Janeway said nothing and leaned her head forward, burying her face in the crook of Seven’s neck and nuzzling her cheeks against the soft, pale skin. Somewhat perplexed by the redhead’s actions, because it seemed to de-escalate rather than advance their coupling, the former Borg accepted the gesture nonetheless and waited patiently for Janeway to verbalize her thoughts. The lustful highs they had achieved so quickly began to subside with every passing second. She felt her auburn-haired captain angle her head, wet and warm lips skimming across her collarbone. 

“I’m sorry,” Janeway finally whispered, the breath on Seven’s skin sending chills down her back, “I don’t think I’m ready for…” she trailed off, incapable of finishing her train of thought out loud.

“I don’t understand, Kathryn,” Seven replied, her hands still caressing, albeit shyly, Janeway’s chest, coming dangerously close to Janeway’s breasts. Janeway chuckled mournfully.

“I know,” she brought up a hand and rested it on the side of Seven’s neck, returning the caress, “it’s a little hard to explain. You’re so very beautiful and I want to give you so much, show you so much,” Janeway pushed her hips upward with emphasis and smiled into Seven’s neck, “but I’m just...we might be moving just a little too fast and,” she started to stammer, “I’ve never really done this before, at least not with another woman.”

Hearing the sincere vulnerability in Janeway’s voice, Seven stopped caressing and soothingly ran her fingers through Janeway’s auburn tresses, reveling in the softness of it and realizing she had always wanted to do that. The exquisite woman underneath her moaned, enjoying the feel of Seven’s fingers brushing through her hair. Janeway was a sucker for having her hair touched, even more so now that it was Seven doing it.

“Please do not be sorry, I was the one that initiated this,” said Seven, reprimanding herself, “I apologize--”

“No, no darling it’s alright,” Janeway interrupted gently, pulling back to look at the former drone, “I’m so unbelievably lucky to even have you like this,” she tenderly cupped Seven’s cheek, “can you be patient with me, love?”

“I can,” Seven leaned her face into Janeway’s hand, nuzzling against the warm palm, “do you wish for me to leave now?”

Janeway balked and shook her head.

“Of course not! I’d still like to spend the rest of the evening with you, if that’s alright?”

Her ocular implant and blonde eyebrow inching upwards, Seven inclined her head.

“Since the evening is still...young,” she replied with an impossibly playful smile, proud of her usage of a human expression, “I would like that very much.”

Hopelessly smitten with the golden haired goddess still nestled in her lap, Janeway wrapped an arm around her waist and gently pulled Seven’s chin forward, kissing her for several long moments, infusing all the adoration and longing she felt for her in that kiss.

They eventually separated, Seven awkwardly extricating herself from the auburn-haired Captain’s lap and taking up her previous spot on the sofa, smoothing out her dress and doing her best to ignore a certain wetness around her center. Sitting in close proximity, occasionally touching each other affectionately and setting off small sparks of passion, they spent the rest of the evening conversing and drinking a little more wine together. Though it wasn’t as physically mind-boggling or heart pounding, it was still exceptionally pleasant to be in each other’s company this way, and there was a certain appeal to postponing the physical pleasures that they would, when the time was right, explore to their fullest.

***

Roughly twenty minutes passed before the doors to the Captain’s quarters opened again to reveal an astonishing sight. Janeway carefully stepped out into the corridor, hesitantly scanning each direction for any sign of life, uncommonly self-conscious about the way she looked. She donned a royal blue gown that sported a high slit, sensually revealing the length of her leg to the top of her thigh. Her glossy auburn hair, normally styled in a short bob, was now somewhat straightened while still maintaining its volume, falling several centimeters past her shoulders. Ankles wobbling a little, she struggled to remember how to walk in heels as it had been many years since she last wore a pair. It must’ve been long before she was given command of Voyager and at some formal function that didn’t involve StarFleet or the Federation. 

Like re-learning how to ride a bicycle, she finally got the hang of it the more she walked, thankful that there was nobody around to see her unexpectedly lose balance. If Janeway didn’t have her heart set on wearing that dress, she would never have put those heels on. But it would be worth it. It was only natural that Janeway wanted to look her absolute feminine best for the woman that plagued her thoughts and haunted her soul for so long. 

Janeway wasn’t able to do this much for their last two dates. Not when she had a tendency to work until the last possible minute, allowing herself very little time to get ready properly. This evening would be different. She paid much more attention to the passage of time as she worked today, bound and determined to give herself enough wiggle room to primp and spruce. The thought of stunning her date into the next century, especially considering who she was trying to impress, made her body throb with excitement.

With a few minutes to spare, Janeway slowed her pace and leisurely walked the remaining amount of corridor to the holodecks. This date was long overdue for the two women, but it was honestly the Captain’s fault that they hadn’t been able to see much of each other in their free time. Because of the work Seven of Nine had been putting in alongside Harry and B’Elanna, and with those two being notorious workaholics, the former drone’s availability was scarce for the past three weeks. All she knew during that period was work, the occasional break to consume nutritional supplements and regenerating during the night. Janeway made a mental note to sincerely apologize to Seven for assigning her to the project and letting them work so much without at least taking a day long break in between. 

But tonight, with a little harmless intervention on the Captain’s part, they were finally able to schedule their third date. Three whole weeks of barely catching a glimpse of each other was not cutting it at all. 

Her pulse quickening, Janeway rounded the final curve of the corridor, completing the last stretch of distance to the holodecks. When she approached, the redhead was once again stopped dead in her tracks, silently offering a word of thanks to whichever deity had blessed her with such divine circumstances. Rather than some vague sense of déjà vu, she was flat out reliving a pivotal moment from the not too distant past and loving every minute of it.

A blonde bombshell with impossibly generous features from head to toe stood waiting next to the doors of Holodeck 2, facing the opposite direction from Janeway’s advance. Why it was such a surprise to see this woman, wearing yet another incredible dress and absolutely killing it, Kathryn Janeway had no idea. But for all the bad luck she endured, from the very moment she and her ship had been flung out into the Delta Quadrant, this sight alone made it all worth it. She stared for what seemed like ages at Seven’s exposed back, the creamy skin beckoning, begging to be caressed and kissed. Zeroing in on the features, Janeway had a clear vision of running her tongue along the dip of Seven’s spine, prompting her to bring a hand up to her mouth to suppress any sort of sound that may have escaped by accident. 

Borg-enhanced hearing picked up the subtle sounds that Janeway made, even though she was still a good distance away, and Seven quickly turned, giving the already stunned Captain a good full view of the bright red dress she wore. Backless and shorter in length, the dress hugged her body, accentuating all of her curves much better than any biosuit she ever wore. Her light blonde hair stood out even more against the backdrop of red. Red really was her favorite color, and she wore it unbelievably well.

For one tender moment, Seven’s expression was vulnerable as soon as she caught sight of the Captain, looking ravishing in her blue gown. During her time on Voyager as a recovering former drone, Seven had really grown to admire and idolize the StarFleet captain that was responsible for her separation from the Collective. But the admiration and idolization she felt were merely symptoms of an underlying cause, and it wasn’t until their practice date that she finally came to realize what it really was that she felt for this fiercely beautiful StarFleet Captain from Indiana. 

Feeling a blush coming on, Janeway’s gaze dropped downward and she nervously shifted her feet as Seven analyzed her, hoping she didn’t disappoint the younger, more attractive woman with the effort she put in to spruce up. Anyone that had eyes would have argued that Janeway was, by no stretch of the imagination, less attractive than Seven. But she knew she was getting up there in age, and that somewhat bothered her at times like this. There was only so much primping and beautifying the older woman could do before her age became an inhibiting factor. 

From the way Janeway moved, Seven easily noticed the bare leg that peeked out of the open slit of her dress and she loved what she saw, wanting more than anything to get a closer look at that leg and the rest of the smaller built woman. If her eyes and body language could communicate anything at that moment, it was that Seven was far from disappointed with Janeway's appearance. A million lightyears far. It made her think back to their first date when she first saw the Captain, recalling the images she had in her mind of this divine woman wearing a flattering dress and how flustered she became at the thought. Now here they were again, standing in the corridor outside of the holodecks, with Janeway looking almost exactly how Seven envisioned that first time. Fate was a funny thing.

Reminding herself that there was a need for certain social graces and that she couldn’t continue standing there for much longer, Janeway crossed the remaining length of corridor between them, bringing herself face to face with her prize of a date.

“Hello there,” she greeted in a low, sensual voice. She took Seven’s Borg hand and lifted it to her lips, kissing the back of it in a loving and meaningful gesture. Her breathing hitched, Seven shivered at the feel of Janeway’s lips on her skin and Borg implants. She smiled appreciatively, the gloss on her own lips shimmering in the light of the corridor.

“Hello Kathryn.”

Janeway slowly dropped Seven’s hand but maintained her grasp, caressing it with her thumb. 

“Fancy meeting you here like this again,” the redhead beamed, her bluish grey eyes shining, “it’s wonderful to see you.”

“And you as well. I have been looking forward to this,” Seven sincerely replied, lightly squeezing Janeway’s hand, mindful of how harsh the implants might feel if she applied too much force in her grip, “you are looking extremely desirable this evening.”

“Oh, well,” the older woman blushed at Seven’s choice of words, her hand subconsciously running through her hair and briefly glancing down at herself, “thank you Seven. But I think you’re giving me a run for my money in that dress.” 

“I would argue that they both have their merits,” Seven quipped, noticeably eyeing the high slit of Kathryn’s gown.

“You might be right,” Janeway dipped her eyelashes, unabashedly enjoying the feel of Seven’s leer over her body. The time and effort spent getting herself ready was definitely paying off.  _ Perhaps I’ll continue to get rewarded later in the evening, _ her lecherous inner voice mused. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

The instinct to take the lead again motivated Kathryn to step towards the younger woman. Unsure of whether it came from a sense of tradition or her own selfish desire, she placed a hand on the small of Seven’s naked back, feeling a combination of warm, silky flesh and the extra low hem of the dress. Beside herself with happiness and overwhelming passion, Kathryn gently guided an equally happy Seven inside Holodeck 2, where at last they would have their third successful date as well as many more like it in the future. Perhaps for the rest of their lives.


End file.
